Sleep Song
by celticwanderer
Summary: Sansa, a princess of the highlands, saves a mysterious rugged man who washes up on shore. While he recovers and hides away in her secret cabin, her father, Lord Eddard Stark promises her to the young Joffrey Baratheon. She must choose between doing what's expected of her, and what her heart tells her.
1. Chapter 1

The title of the story is the name of the song, "Sleep Song" by Secret Garden. It always reminded me of Sansa walking in the highlands, Give it a listen to get in the mood. Don't forget to comment! Good or bad criticism is always helpful.

The thunderous waves of the cold sea crashed against the bottom of ancient cliffs Tall green grass, that danced with the Northern winds covered the highlands, creating a coastline of greenery. The forever grey skies cast a dream like atmosphere down on the Earth, giving Landale an air of mystery and magic.

Sansa Stark, bundled up in a dark green wool dress with a brown cloak wrapped around her walked along the cliffs edge. Her brown boots trekked through the mud with ease. Her long red braid hung down her left shoulder, she preferred wearing it down, but she had to be careful walking so close to the edge. The wind could send her long locks in her eyes, and she could easily lose her footing and fall.

As legend goes, hundreds of years ago, her ancestors who were forbidden to be together married on these very cliffs. Volantis Stark and Eva Clarach. Volantis was to marry a princess from the South, fair, graceful, and every bit the lady, but his heart belonged to Eva. Against the wishes of his mother and father, Volantis asked Eva to marry him, and become Queen of Landale. To rule beside him and live out the rest of their lives happily. When she came to meet the current King and Queen, they were cold at first, but after seeing how kind she was and how happy she made their son, they warmed their hearts and welcomed her into their family. The townspeople soon followed suit. She did many good deeds for the farming villages and was seen as a saint. Their wedding day was spectacular. Eva wore a dress of cream lace, yellow flowers were placed in her long chestnut hair, and she went barefoot. It was an open ceremony, everyone was invited. Village folk and highborns alike sat on blankets strewn about the highlands with the roaring sea as a back drop. Volantis's father officiated the marriage. As the lovers kissed, the guests stood and applauded, only breaking their clapping to wipe tears away.

The brother of the princess Volantis was supposed to marry was a crooked man driven by hate and unable to forgive. He wanted Volantis to marry his sister, so they would have control of these lands. Like a stampede of a thousand horses he ran through the happy guests and headed toward the newly married couple. The new King and Queen of Landale. With all his might, he placed two hands on Volantis and shoved him off the cliffs, falling down with him.

The applause stopped.

Everyone rushed to the side of the cliffs. Happy tears turned into sad ones. Eva screamed and tried to look down to see if her love had somehow caught himself on a branch. Volantis's father, the King, grabbed her and stopped her from falling, but not before she saw two sets of ripples where the bodies fell in the infinite sea. He was dead. She lost all sense of control and cursed the Gods out loud. Screaming and crying, the villagers helped the King take Eva and the Queen, who fainted, back to the castle. The magic of the grey skies turned to gloom.

Eva awoke days later. She would not eat. She would not speak. Months passed as fast as days in the darkness of her room. It wasn't until the Queen came knocking on her door that Eva spoke. The Queen sat on her bed and held her hands. She told her she was her daughter now, and she would look after her. They had no other children and when the time came, she would be Queen. They held each other in a warm embrace, when they let go, the Queen looked at Eva strangely.

"Dear child...are you..." The Queen looked at Eva's stomach. A small bump was visible underneath her dress. The Queen put her hands to her mouth, her green eyes filled with tears.

Eva and Volantis had snuck out the night before they were to be married. The walked along the cliffs and went down to the small stone house on the beach. They whispered sweet words by the fire, and rolled around under on blankets. They hadn't planned on making love that night, but couldn't help it. It was the most beautiful moment of Eva's life.

"My Queen, forgive me." Eva whispered, putting her head in her hands.

The Queen lifted her chin and to Eva's surprise, she was smiling. She placed her other hand on Eva's stomach.

"Volantis's son or daughter is in there." The Queen softly cried. "The future ruler of Landale. This is a most happy day sweet girl."

Eva smiled, they embraced again, letting their emotions go, forming a bond as strong as mother and daughter. They went on to live happily. When The Queen grew too old to rule, Eva took her place, After she passed, her son took hers, continuing the Stark name. When Eva passed, her funeral was held in the same spot she married her darling Volantis. Everyone was invited. There were more people than grass. Her son scattered her ashes over the cliffs, and she was finally reunited with her love.

Sansa always thought of that story on her way to the stone house on the beach. Her father, Eddard, King of Landale tried to stop her from going down there, but he failed time and time again, and soon gave up completely. It was Sansa's quiet place. Her days were full, from her hand maidens fussing over her wild tresses in the morning, to her lessons in the afternoons, sewing, singing, horse back riding, needlepoint, to nightly dinners with her large family, followed by dessert and stories from her parents before bed. Sansa lived a happy life, and she did not take it for granted, but sometimes she wanted to be alone. She enjoyed sitting by the waves, curled up in blankets with a book and skin full of heated chocolate. It cleared her mind.

Down the stone steps nature indented on the side of the cliffs she went. She had her book and drink in a small brown satchel and used her hands to balance herself, and hold onto rocks to get down safely. The steps led all the way to the beach. It was always much colder down there, and since she frequented the spot often, her father made sure firewood and blankets were stocked in the cabin at all times.

She walked along the sand, as gracefully as one could leaving small footprints behind her. The waves were big today and the salty water sprayed lightly against her cheek as she made her way to the cabin, eager to get inside and warm herself.

She used the methods her father taught her to make a successful fire. It took her a while to get the hang out it, when she finally did, the proud smile from her father made the difficulties worth it. She dropped her belongings next to the fire, giving it a few minutes before adding another log and went back out on the beach.

Sansa loved searching for interesting shells and rocks. It started on her first trip out here. She was running in and out of the water and tripped over something. She laid in the sand clutching her toes, crying. Her mother came and comforted her, and her younger sister, Arya laughed.

"Don't be such a child!" She mocked, but one glare from their mother stopped her teasing immediately.

Her older brother, Robb, picked the cause of her pain out of the sand. It was a stone. It glowed the most vibrant red.

"It reminds me of your hair." Her father said. He took it from Robb and handed it to Sansa. "Keep it, as a reminder of this day."

Sansa took it from her father's large hands. She looked around her, her families faces smiling down at her. Her mother, father, her brothers, Robb, Jon, Bran and Rickon, and her ferocious sister Arya. The people she loved most in the world surrounded her as they enjoyed a day at the beach. Sansa squeezed the stone in her hands, deciding this was a day she wanted to remember. After that she was always on the look out for stones and shells. She liked to play games, making up stories in her mind about what far away land each one came from. Who touched the stone last before her.

Sansa walked along the beach hunched over searching. It was a particularly cold day, and she was only out for twenty minutes before deciding to head back to the small house. She stared out to sea, clutching her cloak as she walked. She took in a deep breath. Sansa had two favorite smells, the salty sea, and fresh lemon cakes. She licked her lips at the thought of her favorite treat. As she reached for the handle she heard a distant scream turned back to sea. She saw nothing and looked both ways on the beach. No one was around. That's strange. She thought. She stayed out for another moment, listening carefully. A gust of wind came by telling her it was time to go inside.

She hung her cloak on the small wooden chair by the window. The fire grew since she left and the room now glowed a warm golden hue. She looked in the small cracked wall mirror and undid her plait. Her hair sprang out in long red curls. Her cheeks were stained pink from the wind, which looked nice against her otherwise milky complexion. A light dusting of freckles covered her nose. She was the only one out of her siblings who had them. Her mother said it was because she was kissed by fairies when she was a baby.

She nestled in the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor beside the fire and reached for her bag, taking out the skin of melted chocolate and her book. She took a sip of the drink, which warmed her insides on it's way down and laid on her stomach. She found her place in her book and escaped back into the story. Sansa felt completely herself here. After a few chapters, the fire began to play tricks with her eyes and laid her hand on her forearms, letting her eyes rest. The sounds of the waves outside were faint, but loud enough to soothe her into a dreamless sleep.

Sansa woke with a start. The scream! She heard it again. She propped herself up on her elbows and listened. Maybe it's just the whistling of the wind? She wondered. She waited to hear it again, her heart fluttered in her chest. Moments passed and just as she was about to continue reading she heard it!

She stood quickly. It sounded close. She donned her cloak and grabbed a small dagger. Her father told her she could never be to careful and made sure the cabin was stocked with weapons. Sansa readied her self and opened the door.

A dark mass laid on the beach, barely moving. Cold waves washed over it. Sansa squinted and took a few steps closer. The dark mass slowly turned into a man. Sansa dropped the dagger and ran to him.

She lifted his face from the wet sand and he coughed up sea water.

"Sir, can you hear me!" Her back was to the ocean and she didn't see the wave that soon splashed over them. She yelped, the cold water felt like needles in her skin. She looped her arm through the man's large one and helped him up. Sansa was tall for a girl, but this man towered over her, even slumped over. They made it halfway to the cabin before he collapsed again.

"Just a little further. You must warm yourself by the fire before you get sick!" Sansa pleaded, the man nodded, and struggled, but stood again. He leaned on Sansa and they walked to the cabin.

Inside, the man stumbled to the fire. Sansa rushed over to him. "You're drenched, you must take off your clothes." She stated. He nodded and turned so his back faced to her. She turned as well, giving him little privacy but caught his reflection in the broken mirror. She could see his wet shoulder length hair clinging to his skin sending water dripping down his back. His shoulders were broad and his muscles flexed as he took off his clothes. Scars covered his body. He looks like a warrior. She thought. As he started taking off his pants, Sansa looked down and swallowed hard.

"Blankets are on the other side of the fire. Take as many as you'd like." She offered, but her voice betrayed her and cracked. She heard him settle in and turned around, reaching into her satchel. She pulled out another skin of water and walked over to him. She knelt down and offered the skin. He nodded in thanks and took a sip.

In all the commotion, Sansa realized she didn't get a good look at his face, for now she could see the right side was covered in burns. She didn't want him to see her stare, so she looked away before he finished drinking.

He handed her the skin and coughed into his arm. "Thank you." The burned man rasped. His voice was deep and soothing.

"You can stay here and rest for as long as you need to." She said kindly. She did not offer her name, in case this man was an enemy to the Stark's. She forced herself to look into his eyes as she spoke. They were grey. She had never met anyone with grey eyes besides her father, and Jon, but his weren't like their's. She could see deep into his soul, and found sadness,

He scooted himself away from the flames and rested his head on the soft pillows. She left the water by him in case he needed it again and sat on the other side of the fire. As he slept and warmed up, the blanket fell off his shoulder and she stared at his muscled back moving up and down with his steady breaths. He coughed occasionally but for the most part slept soundly. It was getting close to nightfall, and Sansa knew she couldn't stay the night or her father would come looking for her. She hung his clothes on a line by the fire letting them dry. She noticed several holes in his tunic and stuffed it in her bag.

She tied her hair back into a long plait and wrapped her cloak around her, which was luckily dry. She took one last look at the man before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her.

On her walk back to the castle she planned to come back as soon as breakfast was over. Molly, one of the cooks always snuck her treats when she felt like a midnight snack with out question. Sansa would ask her to put aside a large so she could sneak it to the man who slept in her sanctuary. She wondered how the horrible burns on his face came to be and prayed to the seven he would be warm enough through the night.

I wonder what his name is... Sansa thought as she walked along the cliff's edge.


	2. Chapter 2

The "Landale" accent sounds Irish, and the "Helmsdale" accent sounds Scottish. Don't forget to comment. Happy holidays!

Sansa woke before the day began. She sat up in bed and ran her hands through her long red tangled curls, trying to remember her dream. That man... She thought. He was in my dream...

She slid her arched feet into her slippers, and didn't bother with her robe. It was too early for anyone else to be awake, so she wasn't worried about being caught in her white nightgown. Sansa tip toed to her window. She could see the great sea, but not the little cabin on the beach. She pressed her finger tip to the glass, getting an idea of how cold the morning was. Hopefully he was warm enough.

Sansa brushed through her tangles and tied her hair in a long fishtail braid. She like the way it made her curls bounce when she undid it. She looked through the wooden wardrobe with wolves, her houses sigil, carved on the doors, for the most simple dress she could find. She chose a deep purple cotton dress. Luckily, the back was easy enough to tie on her own and when she finished dressing she looked at herself in the vanity. The sleeves were long and hung down to her knees, the neckline was lower than her nicer gowns and pushed her breasts up, but she didn't mind. The cloak would cover her there. The bodice slimmed her already small waist, giving her a feminine silhouette. The richness of the color brought out the red in her hair. Sansa pinched her cheeks and bit down on her bottom lip, instantly making her looked more awake. She did not wear any jewels in case the man was a thief. Pleased with her appearance, Sansa grabbed her satchel and cloak and headed down to the kitchens.

The halls, which were usually warm with candle light and full of laughter were quiet and grey. Sansa walked slowly through the halls, the silence giving it an eerie feel. She imagined the ghosts of her ancestors watching her and picked up her pace.

Sansa peaked her head in before entering the kitchen. Molly, the head cook was already down there, flour dusted her blonde ringlets, Her large belly pressed against the table as she rolled dough. She was sweetly humming an old Landale hymn, which told Sansa she was in a good mood today. Molly was either very happy and chipper, or cranky and mean.

"Good morning, Molly." Sansa entered, taking a seat on the other side of the table.

Molly bowed. "Good morning m'lady." She said with a thick Helmsdalish accent. Molly was only ten when her family sent her to Landale in hopes of a better life than one in Helmsdale, ruled by the Baratheon family. The Stark's took her in, and she became like family. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Sansa made up her story as she drifted off to sleep the night before. She would tell anyone who asked that she wanted to get an early start because she had her blood and wanted to be alone. "I have my flower and couldn't sleep with the pain. I want to be alone today. Can I please have a breakfast and lunch packed to take with me?" Sansa asked with big eyes.

Molly stopped rolling and went to the stove to pour Sansa a cup of tea. "Of course sweet girl." She placed the cup in front of Sansa, the steam floated up to her face with aromas of herbs and cinnamon. "Drink that and by the time you're done I'll have it ready for ye'"

"Thank you, Molly." Sansa smiled, wrapping her hands around the mug, warming herself before taking a sip.

Molly had indeed packed quite a meal. and the weight of the basket slowed Sansa's pace. It was still early, but she was concerned about the burned man's condition and wanted to hurry. The morning winds blew South which worked in her favor. The hymn Molly sang this morning was stuck in her head and she began singing as she walked along the cliffs. Getting down the stairs with the basket of food was tricky, but she had done it before. Practice made perfect and Sansa made it down with out so much as a slip or tumble.

The cabin was in view, and smoke came out of the chimney which meant the fire was still going strong. Thank the Gods, she thought. At least he is warm. As she got closer to the cabin, she started to get a little nervous. She did not know this man. What if she was in danger? What if he was a murderer, or tried to take her maiden hood. Sansa shuddered at that. Father stocked the cabin full of weapons. He taught me how to used them, I'll be safe. She inhaled the salty air, the same air her ancestors breathed, giving her courage. She was a Northern wolf. She would be brave. This man needed her help, and her father may have taught her to be cautious, but her mother taught her to help others in need.

The cabin grew in size as Sansa walked closer and another thought danced in her mind. His burns. She had never seen such wounds before. They didn't look recent, she's sure he would have been screaming in pain if they were. They frightened her, but surely less then he must have been when whatever caused them happened. She would not show her fear.

She approached the door, not sure if she should knock. She decided against it and opened it slowly. It creaked, and she winced at the noise hoping it wouldn't wake him. She closed it as quietly as she could. She walked over to the small table, hung her cloak over the chair and undid her plait. She turned and looked at the man. He laid facing the fire, still asleep, breathing heavily. Sansa set the basket of food down near the fire and nestled into the blankets, shivering. She usually walked here in the late morning, or early afternoons, the warmest time of day. The air this early was brisk and she needed to warm herself. She sat crossed legged and held her palms out to the flames.

She chose not to wake the man. He needed rest, and was sleeping soundly. Sansa took her book out of her satchel, and set the skin of freshly brewed tea from Molly out in front of her. This was one of her favorite stories. She read for hours, but as the man tossed and turned, she found herself reading the same paragraph over and over. The crackling of the flames and the man's heavy breathing distracted her. It wasn't proper for a lady to be alone with a man, but the circumstances called for it. If her mother and father knew, they would help him of course, but Sansa was oddly curious about him, and the privacy of getting to know someone, not as Lady Sansa Stark, but just Sansa was exciting.

She took a break from reading and watched him sleep. The blanket hung loosely over his waist. Sansa had never seen a naked man before. She took advantage of his slumber and studied the male form. He was so large. Dark hair covered his chest and forearms. His muscled arms were crossed, covering most of his stomach, but from what Sansa could see, it was hardened and scarred from training and battles. She'd seen her brothers with out tunics before, they were fit, but their bodies didn't look quite as impressive as this man's. A trail of dark hair went down his stomach and led somewhere covered by the blankets. He looked so warm and Sansa felt the strange urge to lay next to him, wrapped in his arms. She took every inch of him in and moved her gaze back up his body to his face. She gasped and pressed her hand to her heart. His eyes were open.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to stare." She breathed.

"Most people look away when they see my face. Stare all you like." He replied with a Helmsdalish accent.

"You're from Helmsdale?" Sansa gasped, ignoring his comment about his face. Landale and Helmsdale had been at odds with the threat of war for many years. Passage from one to the other was almost impossible.

"Aye." The man answered. "By your accent I take it I'm in Landale?"

"That's right.

He slowly sat up, but began coughing. He clutched his waist in pain. Sansa rushed to his. The area below his chest was bruised. She gave water and he drank until the coughing subsided. "Thank you."

"What can I do to help?" Sansa asked worriedly.

"For a broken rib? Time is the only healer unfortunately. The only thing that can help ease the pain is ale." He winced.

"I'm afraid I don't have any." She silently vowed to bring some with her on the morrow. "How long were you out there?" She asked.

"I counted six moons." He rasped.

"Six?" Sansa was horrified. "You must have been so cold. What happened?"

The man looked at his hands as if trying to remember. "I was on a ship. When the storm hit the waves tore the it apart like it was a piece of parchment..." He kept his eyes on his hands, replaying the terrors in his mind.

Unsure of how to comfort him, Sansa reached for the basket on placed it in between them. "I brought food." She said, hopeful it would take his mind off the storm.

The basket was full of honey bread, fresh grapes and apples, cheese, a spiced roast, lemon cakes, and a bottle of cider. The man ate ravenously. His mouth full, he offered some to Sansa but she declined. She was hungry, but this man hadn't eaten for seven days. She could wait a little longer. Sansa noticed a huge gash in his shoulder.

"May I?" She eyed his wound. He nodded and she crawled closer to him. The gash was deep, but didn't look infected. The salt water must have helped. She placed her hands on his arm. His skin was warm, and she could feel his large muscles. She swallowed hard. "I'll need to give you stitches."

"I've had worse." He mumbled.

She knew he was talking about his burns, but it wouldn't be polite to ask about them. If he wanted to tell her how they came to be, he would in his own time. "Oh!" Sansa remembered his tunic. She reached in her satchel and handed it to him. "It was torn, I took it home to mend it."

The man held it to the fire and saw her little stitches in the fabric. "I suppose I'll have to trust you with my shoulder." He smiled, the scars on his face twisted. Sansa noticed in that moment his eyes changed. The sadness went away and she saw a glimmer of happiness that softened his face. He put the tunic over his head and it was gone. "Thank you, lass."

She smiled at him. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, thought it was not uncomfortable.

"Is this your home?" He asked.

Home? How could anyone call this a home? It was smaller than the kitchens in the castle. "No, it does not belong to anyone. No one comes here but me."

"And all of those..." He pointed at her stone collection. "...are yours?"

"They are." She answered, somewhat embarrassed at such a childish thing. She tucked her long curls behind her ear awkwardly.

"Then it belongs to you." He let out a small smile.

"I never thought of it like that." She smiled, looking around with a new appreciation.

"My home was about this size." He started . "It was but a room."

"A room?" Sansa gasped with wide eyes.

"Aye, I was the sworn shield for the brat prince in the South." He admitted. Sansa had learned of the Baratheon's, and all other houses in her lessons, but did not know much about the prince personally. "He's not right in the head. Cruel. I couldn't take guarding him anymore, so I left."

"You just left?" Sansa asked.

"Not before telling him to fuck off." He spat. "Apologies, lass. I boarded the ship with other men who agreed with me. We did not believe in the way the Baratheon's ruled, so we decided to come here and join the Landalish cause."

Sandor's voice turned dark as he finished. The men he spoke of must have died in the ship wreck. "I'm sorry for your loses. The North will be happy to welcome you."

"Let's hope so, lass."

Sansa was so used to being called, my lady, that the casualty of "lass" caught her off guard. She liked it. She looked out the window, it was beginning to get dark. The days were shorter when the weather changed. Winter was coming...

"The day is almost gone, I must be getting back." Sansa stood and re braided her long hair. "I shall return with more food and medicines on the morrow." She smiled.

"Thank you for your kindness. What might I call you?" The burned man inquired.

He had been honest with her, and she did not wish to lie. She decided to give him her first name, but not her last. "Sansa." She cooed.

"Sansa..." He repeated like it was the most beautiful word he'd ever heard.

"And yours?" She asked.

He took a moment, as if the same worries she had troubled him. "Sandor." He finally answered. She could see in his grey eyes that it was his true name.

"Until tomorrow, Sandor." She smiled before opening the door, she left quickly so as not to let the cold sea air in.

Sansa could not believe she'd spent the afternoon alone with a man! Highborn girls were not permitted to. A man must court a lady with many chaperoned outings before they're allowed a minute alone. She had even touched his bare skin. A blush crept across her neck at the thought. She had never kept secrets from her parents, especially her mother, but no one could know he was here. If they found out she was hiding a Helmsdalian man, they would see to it that he returned from where he came, and would never trust Sansa again. She lived a life of order and rules. She did what was expected of her, and although she had attended countless parties and balls, every conversation she had was full of empty courtesies and nothing more. With Sandor, it felt different. It felt honest. The prospect of speaking to a person who did not know she was highborn, and who did not bow to her every move was, exciting. Sansa smiled to herself as she quickened her pace to the castle.

Sansa entered the castle through the back kitchen doors. Her boots were covered in mud and dirty footprints trailed behind her, but she didn't realize it until she turned around..

"Oh no, Molly I'm so sorry!" Sansa started, seeing her footprints. "Let me help you."

"Nonsense! It's good to see you getting a little dirty, and this is nothing compared to the mess your brothers make. Or worse, your sister!" They snickered at that. "I'll have the new girl take care of it. Are you feeling better my lady?"

Sansa had almost forgotten playing sick before leaving that morning. "Yes, much better. I believe it's all thanks to your tea. I quite enjoyed it, do you think you could prepare me another basket for tomorrow? I should like to take my meals there again very much." She smiled as sweetly as she could.

"Of course my lady. Shall I make enough for the other Stark's as well?" Molly asked excited at the prospect of cooking a large feast.

"That won't be necessary, it'll just be me." Sansa hoped she would not press further.

"Very well, but I'll still be making a lot for ye'. You need to pack a little meat on those bones, girl." The ladies chuckled and Sansa left the kitchens, thankful she did not have to worry about play sick again tomorrow.

Sansa called for a warm bath before dinner. The walk back to the castle left her bones cold. Four hand maidens entered her chambers carrying a steaming bath and set it down by her window. They lit her fireplace and undressed her before leaving. Sansa slowly submerged herself in the hot water. Once her skin got used to the warmth she rested her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. She took deeps breaths and thought about the man's tale. How frightening that must have been to be lost at sea for almost a weeks time. Sansa remembered the storm. She loved cold rainy weather, but it t was much to dangerous to go to the small cabin on the beach during storms. If the waves were big enough they could wash it away. Instead, she curled up in bed with a book, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting her window. Sansa began scrubbing her body with calming vanilla scented soap. How funny, she thought, on the same day I was in here, with the comforts of my bed, he was out there trying not to drown, while all those around him disappeared beneath the depths. She shuddered at the thought and suddenly felt the need to get out of the water.

She dried off and her hand maidens came back into her chambers. They dressed her in a light blue silk gown and brushed her hair until it curled, braiding two small pieces around her head.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in" Sansa called.

Her half brother, Jon entered. He was dressed in his usual all black smart attire for dinner. "You look more grown up every day, Sansa." He smiled.

Sansa was about to return the compliment but when she looked at him she couldn't help laughing. "And you would look like a proper Lord if it wasn't for that mop on top of your head." She eyed the mass of black curls that hung just above his shoulders.

The hand maidens left her chambers, and Jon walked closer to her. "I heard you were feeling ill this morning. I came to see if you needed anything, but you weren't here. Molly said you went to your hide away."

"I did. I felt like being on my own and didn't want to be a bother." Sansa lied.

Jon nodded, taking her words in. He held out his hand for her and she stood from her vanity. "I've known you since you were a baby, and every time winter's cold visited you, you made sure everyone knew by your moaning and groaning." Jon gave her a knowing smile. "I don't know what you're up to sister, but you need not lie, surely if you just wanted alone time, you need only ask."

Sansa felt terrible for lying to Molly, and now she had to pretend to her whole family that she was ill this morning. Jon was the quietest of the Stark children, and in Sansa's opinion, the kindest. She knew she could trust him with anything. "Jon..." She started. "Have you ever kept a secret?"

Jon looked puzzled by her question, and took his time in answering. "You have a smart head on your shoulders, Sansa. You know what's right and what's wrong. Sometimes in order to do what's right, we have to keep secrets." He gave a sorrowful smile and held out his arm. "Come on. Molly's prepared roasted duck tonight."

Sansa took his arm and thought about his words. She felt in her heart that saving Sandor was the right thing to do. It didn't make a difference to her if he was from Landale or Helmsdale. She smiled on the way to dinner, thinking if Jon knew, he would be proud.


	3. Chapter 3

The song Molly sings is called "Sleep Song" by Secret Garden. It was one of the inspirations for this story. Give it a listen, and don't forget to comment :) Good or bad, it all helps.

The Stark's sat around the long oak table with nothing but bones from the roasted duck left on their plates. Sansa's father, Eddard Stark, sat back in his chair with his hand on his gut. Her older brother's Robb and Jon followed suit.

"You boys." Her mother Catelyn shook her head, smirking. "Sit up straight while you're at the table!" She chuckled.

"If I move, I may very well burst and leave quite a mess for you to clean up." Eddard let out a hearty laugh and Catelyn swatted his arm.

The servants began clearing their plates, and resetting them for dessert, joining in on the laughter. The Stark's were one of the oldest, and most noble families in all of Gulladorf. They ruled the North, and still managed to show kindness, and give aid to the farm people in the surrounding villages. They were happy to find work for anyone that needed it. They took care of their people, and return, their people took care of them. Sansa never thought anything of it, she was raised to treat all people with kindness and respect, until one day she found her mother and Molly crying in the kitchen. Sansa asked what was wrong and Molly told her not to worry, for they were tears of joy. Catelyn had bought her a small home in the village. A place to call her own. She said her parents, who served the Baratheons since they could walk, were never once thanked. Only punished. Kindness was not something to be found in the South.

Sansa had never been to Helmsdale, but she learned about it, and all other cities in her lessons with her septa, Old Nan. Although Sansa preferred learning hymns and needlework, she enjoyed hearing about the history of Gulladorf. Helmsdale is the furthest city to the South. She knew it was ruled by the Baratheon family. Robert, and his wife Cersei Lannister. Sansa had only seen a painting of her in a book. She had beautiful long yellow hair and a regal jaw. Sansa noticed her gown showed more skin than the ones woman wore in Landale. It mostly had to do with weather, but Sansa found the style intriguing, They had three children, two sons. Joffrey, the eldest, and Tommen, and one daughter, Myrcella who was around Arya's age. She asked Molly to tell her more about her memories of Helmsdale, but she never wanted to speak of it. She sang hymns she learned a child occasionally, but that was it. Now that Sansa met Sandor, she planned on trying to get more out of Molly, to learn things books couldn't teach her.

The servants set down plates of assorted fruit, and mini apple cakes in front of them. Sweet aromas of warm apples filled the air, but Sansa was so full, she didn't know how she would manage to eat these. Perhaps she could sneak some into her napkin and save them for Sandor. Her scheming thoughts were disrupted when a purple grape hit her in the head. Bursts of laughter filled the room, and Sansa looked at the culprits. Bran and Rickon stared at Sansa with wide eyes, and Arya threw her head back in laughter.

"Arya!" Catelyn scolded. "Apologize to your sister."

"For what?" Arya said innocently. "I didn't do anything, it was RIckon."

Rickon's wide eyes instantly filled with tears. "I did not!" He sobbed.

Bran put a comforting arm around him, and Arya suppressed a giggle. Catelyn glared at Arya until she apologized.

"Sorry, Sansa." Arya muttered. Her plate was suddenly taken away. Arya whipped her head back and found Molly standing behind her. One hand holding her dessert, the other on her plump hip.

"If you're going to make mockery of my food, then I suppose you don't need to eat it." Arya started to protest, but Molly stuck her nose in the air and huffed out of the room with her dessert. Arya slumped in her seat, crossing her arms.

"Here, Arya." Sansa threw the grape back at her. "Enjoy."

Eddard chuckled. Catelyn put her hand on her forehead knowing there was no point in trying to control her wild wolf-lings. Sansa popped an apple cake in her mouth and grinned at Arya as she chewed.

"The men are looking good father." Robb said pridefully.

Jon nodded in agreement. "Especially the one's I'm training." He joked. Everyone laughed except Catelyn, who kept her eyes fixed in the cakes.

"Very good." Eddard said. He wiped his mouth and straightened in his seat. "And what of the weaponry? How is it holding up?"

"We already informed the blacksmith we'll be needed more steel." Robb started. "One of his swords can last a man ten battles." He looked at Jon, excitedly.

"Yes, well let's hope it does not come to that." Eddard stated.

"Is there going to be a battle, father?" Arya asked.

Eddard glanced at Cateyln before answering. "I can not say for certain. The South is not content with just ruling the South, they want to rule all of Gulladorf. But that cannot happen. The Stark's have ruled the North for many years, we know what our people need, and how to live comfortably during the cold winters, they do not. It would be like us trying to rule a fishing village like the Greyjoy's. We all have our place."

"So they want to start a war?" Bran questioned.

"We're hopeful they won't, but there is a chance. That's why your brothers are preparing the men, just in case." He smiled reassuringly.

"Will woman be allowed to fight?" Arya asked. Jon ruffled her hair.

"No, dear girl. Although I'm sure you would make a most fierce warrior." Eddard smiled.

"Father, what if someone from the South wanted to fight for the North?" Sansa dared. "Would we allow them into our army?"

Eddard thought for a moment. "We would have to look them over very carefully. They could be a spy, trying to gain knowledge of our plans. I'm aware the people in the South are not as happy as our people, but it would take a great amount of time, and coin to travel here just to fight on our side."

"But what if you were sure that person was not a spy?" She pressed further. Sansa could feel Jon's black eyes on her, but she dared not look at him, fearful her face would give something away.

"Then we would welcome them into the North with open arms." Eddard rested his elbow on the table and stroked his reddish beard.

"I still think you should allow women to fight." Arya finished.

Once they were finished with dessert, and said goodnight, Sansa and Arya walked to their chambers together. their handmaidens followed behind like ducklings following their mother.

"Do you think there are any spies working for us now, Sansa?" Arya eagerly asked.

"No. We've known everyone here since we were little, surely they'd get bored of us by now." Sansa replied.

"Spies don't get bored. By day they do normal work, but at night they roam the castle halls like rats, listening to bedroom conversations those who spoke thought private." Arya acted out dramatically. "Some nights I bet they even stand in our rooms watching us sleep."

The thought of a shadowed figure watching her sleep made Sansa nervous. "Don't be silly. We have guards standing outside our doors all night."

"What if it's one of the guards!" Arya whispered as the passed a hall guard, standing as still as one of the statues in front of the castle. Sansa and Arya rushed passed him giggling. When they reached Arya's chamber door, they said good night.

"Arya." Sansa stopped her before she entered her room for the night. When Arya turned around, she saw Sansa holding out a mini apple cake wrapped in a napkin. Her face lit up with joy and she grabbed the treat from her sister.

"Thank you." She smiled, before heading into her chamber followed by her handmaidens.

While Sansa was at dinner, her handmaidens had lit a roaring fire so her room was full of warmth when she walked in. Dressed her her white nightgown, Sansa sat by the fire as one of the girls brushed through her thick hair until she could run her fingers through it with out getting caught on a tangle.

Sansa knew she had to sleep soon, as she would be getting up early the next morning to go back to the beach, but she wasn't tired. She thought of sitting by the fire with one of her books, but her mind was too occupied with thoughts of war to read. Instead Sansa opened her balcony doors, the cold night's wind sent chills down her spine. She could hear the waves crashing against the bottom of the cliffs. She loved that sound. In the hot summers, she would sleep with her doors open, allowing that sound to lull her to sleep.

She looked out at the highlands, imagining them covered with fighting men. Crashing steel filling the air instead of the sea. Her father told her tales of past battles he fought in. She always imagined it to be romantic, going off to fight, then returning home to your love, but that was in her imagination. Now that the threat of a real war was here, Sansa no longer found it romantic. She was afraid. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, and she could see the stars. She wish she knew how to read them like her brother, Bran did. A particularly cold gust of wind swept past her and she decided it was time to head back inside.

She packed a small velvet satchel with needle and thread and medicine for Sandor and set in on her night table so she wouldn't forget it. She also chose her dress so she wouldn't have to go through the trouble in the early morning. After picturing herself in a few of her gowns, she ended on a cream colored one. The fabric was perfect for cold weather, and golden thread was stitched into the bodice, creating a floral pattern. Happy with her decision, Sansa crawled into bed and watched the fire begin to dwindle as she let sleep take her away from the world.

Dressed in her gown and cloak, Sansa braided her waist length hair. When she looked in her vanity she wasn't happy with it, and redid the braid. Why am I so concerned with my hair? She wondered. Happy with the second outcome, Sansa pinched her cheeks and dabbed a little lavender oil on the insides of her wrists. She slung her satchel over her shoulder and quietly made her way to the kitchens. She remembered Arya's fantasies of spies and quickened her pace.

She found Molly mashing a bowl of sweet peaches, singing the same Helmsdalish tune. She leaned against the corner before making her presence known, trying to memorize the words.

"Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness

Be loved in return to the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you

I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay..." She finished her song and continued mashing the peaches.

Sansa waited a few more moments before entering the kitchens.

"Good morning, Molly." Sansa chirped.

Molly bowed. "Good morning, Lady Sansa. How was the night to ye'?" She asked.

"I slept very well thank you. And yourself?" She asked.

"I couldn't sleep last night. I smelled rain in the air. I can never sleep during the rain." She set the bowl down. "Take a seat child." Sansa sat in her usual spot on the stool across from Molly. She set a mug in front of her and poured hot water mixed with herbs in. "Let that sit for a moment."

"What was the song you were singing?" Sansa asked.

"Oh, just a lullaby I remember my mother singing to me when I was a girl. You're up early this morning, it used to take all of Landale to get you out of bed at a decent hour." She laughed.

Sansa warmed her hands around the mug and smiled. "I guess when you get older you realize there are more important things than sleep."

"What troubles you, child?" Molly asked, eyed full of concern.

"War." Sansa looked down at her tea. "I never thought it would happen here."

"It might not. Your father will do everything in his power to make sure of it." Molly began packing food in a picnic basket. "A girl as young as you shouldn't be worrying about such things."

"It's hard not to..." Sansa took a sip of her tea, the liquid burned her throat a little.

Molly finished packing and placed both hands on the table. "You live in a very safe place, my lady. Do not fret. And don't stay out to long today, it's going to rain. If it starts before you're back you can slip on those steps, Gods forbid."

"I won't be long." Sansa took one more sip of her tea and got up. "Thank you, again Molly." Sansa grabbed the heavy basket and walked out the back door.

As she walked along the stone pathway, and inhaled the mountain air she thought Molly was right. It does smell like rain. She put her hood up and made her way to the cabin, or her home, as Sandor called it. She smiled at that.

When she reached the door, she was once again faced with the dilemma of if she should knock or not. She didn't want to wake him if he was resting, but she didn't want to walk in if he was indecent. She quietly tapped her fingers against the wooden door and listened carefully. She didn't hear anything, so she opened the door slowly.

The fire was going strong. He must've put more wood in during the night, she thought. He laid by the fire, eyes closed, breathing slowly. The blanket was down to his waist, and Sansa could see a purple bruise over one of his ribs. She quietly set the basket down on the ground on the other side, and unburdened herself of the velvet satchel. She remembered one of her lessons with Old Nan about plants. She told her seaweed was a great source of essential minerals. With that in mind, Sansa stood and headed outside again.

It didn't take long for Sansa to gather a large pile of seaweed. She waited for the waves to wash up on shore, and as they swept back out to sea, Sansa ran on the wet sand and collected all the seaweed she could until she had more than she needed.

She sat on the porch and threw the bulbs back into the sand, placing the leaves in a pile beside her. Once she finished, she went back inside, trailing sandy footprints behind her. She placed the leaves on the table and took her cloak off, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

"What were you doing out there?"

Sansa jumped back, startled. She placed her hand over her heart. "Gods, you scared me."

"You're as skittish as a little bird." He smiled and ate more of the spiced meat from the basket.

"And you're as ravenous as a dog." She retorted. She walked over to her shelves and retrieved a mortar and pestle. "How are you feeling?" She asked, as she took a seat on the ground next to him.

"I can feel my strength coming back, thanks to the rest and your food." He took another large bite. "But my rib makes it difficult to sleep straight through the night."

"Well, this may help some." Sansa began grinding the seaweed leaves, but not as fast as she would've liked. It took more effort than she thought.

Sandor placed his warm hands over hers. "Let me."

She pulled her hands back as he began grinding the seaweed with ease. Sansa's hands still tingled from his touch. She never felt that sensation, not even when a man's hand lingered on her's at a dance. Her cheeks reddened. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sandor's muscles flexing as he crushed the leaves.

"I hope you're ready for your stitches." She distracted herself and reached back for her satchel, taking the needle and thread out.

"Aye." He rasped, and slid the bowl, now full of green mush in front of her.

"Thank you." Sansa muttered. "If I may?" She motioned to his ribs. Sandor nodded. She dipped her fingers in the green mush and placed them on his bruised rib. He did not wince away like she thought. Instead he sat very still, watching her, as she kept her attention on his rib. She imagined what her septa's face would look like if she saw her now.

"Why do you come to this place?" Sandor inquired.

"To bring you food and medicine..."

"I mean on other days. Before you saved me. A girl like you should be out with friends, or being courted."

A rush of excitement came over Sansa. This man did not know who she was, so she could be completely honest with out worrying if he had a loose tongue. Sansa enjoyed doing those things, but she found she got bored of girls her age. Her septa said she was blessed with an old soul, like her father. Days filled with shopping, and adventures into town were fun, but empty in Sansa's opinion. She found being alone with her thoughts more fulfilling, and told him so.

"In my time serving the Baratheon's, I came across many young girls, their heads full of nonsense. Only wanting to please others." He looked at Sansa as she put more seaweed on his rib. "You're different."

Sansa blushed again. and wiped her hand on a small napkin packed in the picnic basket. She gathered the needle and thread and moved to his side, getting a better view of his wound in the fire light. She stuck the needle through the thread and looked at him. He nodded and she pressed the needle into his skin. This used to make Sansa feel queasy, until she practiced on Bran. He fell and cut his leg open. He was taken to the medicine man, but Catelyn said she wanted Sansa to try and stitch him. "A woman must learn these things, for she never knows when certain skills will be needed." She told her. Sansa didn't want to do it, in fear of hurting her brother, but Bran told her it was alright. His confidence transferred to her and she did it with ease.

"I see you have other scars on your body. Have you fought in many battles?" She asked.

"I have." He answered.

"What were they like?"

"Why do you want to know?" He asked.

"I want to know what to expect." She answered quietly. She stuck the needle into his skin again and slowly pulled the thread through.

"There are some horrors ladies shouldn't know about, little bird."

"Little bird?" She smiled. He smiled back, and she watched his scars twist as his lips curled. It was a frightening sight, but she didn't look away.

"I can tell you this much, if there is a battle here, you'll be doing plenty more of these." He eyed the stitches.

Sansa made the last stitch and cut the thread with her teeth. She picked up the bowl of crushed seaweed and spread some over the stitches. "Are you a spy, Sandor?" She asked openly.

"A spy?" He asked in a hoarse voice. " No. A guard dog maybe, but not a rat" He turned and looked her straight in the eyes. They were filled with anger, afraid, Sansa looked down. "A dog will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face."

She looked back up at him, hoping he wasn't offended. She wiped her hands on the napkin and stood. "I-I'm sorry...I should be going." She grabbed her cloak and tied it around her, avoiding his eyes. "Put more of that on your stitches before you go to sleep."

She left as quickly as she came. She was so embarrassed, she did not mean to offend him. He looked at her with such anger. He must be so used to people looking away from his face, how could she be so foolish and inconsiderate. Oh no... Sansa reached up and touched the top of her hood. She felt a light drizzle come down and looked up at the sky. Grey clouds darkened over her. She hurried along the wet sand, the raindrops coming down harder with each step. By the time she reached the steps on the cliffs, the rain was pouring. Water came down the steps like a water fall, dragging mud with it. She couldn't climb all the way back up without slipping.

A loud thunder crashed through the sky, scaring Sansa. It was too dangerous out here. She turned back to the cabin, wondering if she should go back when another loud crash sounded overhead, making the decision for her. She would have to wait out the storm in the cabin.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa's feet sank into the damp sand with each step. The strong winds blew the hood of her cloak off her head, and her hair was now completely wet. Storms in Landale were sudden, and fierce. The sky darkened so quickly, it was almost as if the day was already gone. She squinted, and put her hand in front of her face, trying to block the water flying into her eyes. The rain came down in the direction she walked, making it harder to push against the wind. The sea roared, as monstrous waves crashed against each other. Gods, how did Sandor survive out there?

Distracted by her thoughts, Sansa tripped over a rock covered by the sand, and fell. She caught herself with her hands, but that left her wrists weak. Somehow the rain felt heavier, and she struggled to get up. She heard a muffled call in the distance, but the sea was so loud, the voice was lost in the storm. She managed to lift herself, and she sat on her knees collecting the items that fell out of her velvet satchel. The muffled voice was closer now, and as she searched through the sand, something grabbed her left arm and lifted her up.

"What are you doing, girl?" He yelled through the rain.

"Wait!" Sansa reached for her book. It laid open, pages flying back and forth. She grabbed it and held it tightly against her chest to keep the words from smudging anymore. It was her favorite book. Sandor wrapped his arm around her, helping her walk against the wind. Even wounded, his strength was clear, and they walked the rest of the way to the cabin with ease.

Sansa ran inside, and Sandor slammed the door behind them. "Do they not have storms like this in the South?" Sansa breathed.

Sandor rested his body against the door, catching his breath. He let out a deep laugh. The back of his head was against the door and Sansa watched his neck move with his voice. It was now she realized, he was not wearing his tunic. Her eyes roamed his body. The muscles on his chest were covered with dark hair, and the rain water left glistening droplets falling down his stomach. "That shirt is the only one I have." He said with a mischievous grin. "I didn't want to get it wet."

Sansa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She was suddenly aware of her own clothes. Her cloak was soaked right through, and heavy on her shoulders. She moved one of the wooden chairs closer to the warm fire and unclasped her cloak, hanging it over the back of the chair. She felt her dress with her clammy hands. The front was wetter than the cloak from when she fell. She dusted as much sand off as she could, but it was no use.

"You'll catch cold if you don't take it off." Sandor noted. He looked almost as uncomfortable as she.

"I know..."

"Hang it by the fire, and cover yourself with the blankets." He said, turning his back to her.

Sansa watched him for a few moments, making sure he was not going to turn around. She reached for the back of her dress, but could barely move her arms. The wet fabric made it impossible for her to untie the bodice herself. "S-Sandor?" Sansa's chin shivered uncontrollably. "I-uhh..." She couldn't say the words. She was not brought up to ask a man to help her undress unless it was her husband, but as she looked out the window, the storm only seemed to worsen. It could last all day, and she couldn't sit in a wet dress for much longer.

He turned around and lucky for her, he didn't make her ask. "Come closer to the fire so I can see." He said in a low, hoarse tone.

She did as he asked, and silently wished he would put his tunic on. He sat in a chair, his height was so great, even sitting down, he was almost as tall as her. "I don't know how you women get into these complicated things." He mumbled.

Sansa couldn't help but smile. She adored her gowns. The rich fabrics, the detailed embroidery, the different styles, but sometimes, they were uncomfortable. The corsets dug into her sides, leaving red marks behind, the fabric was sometimes itchy, and she had to take oat baths to sooth her raw skin, and on special occasions, when she wore gowns that squeezed her waist, she could barely breath, and felt faint. "I wonder what the men would think if ladies started wearing loose tunics and britches." She teased, trying not to concentrate on her current situation.

As he began untying the bodice of her dress, the air came easier into her lungs. Neither spoke, both knowing how improper this was. The bodice came off, and Sansa started shivering uncontrollably. Her skin was still so wet, she could barely feel the warmth from the fire. Her stomach and arms tightened, craving the heat from the blankets.

"You're shaking, girl." Sandor observed. He put his hand on her side, and his touch seemed to burn through her skin, warming her. She wanted more, but she was aware she now stood in nothing but her skirts, leaving the top of her small clothes exposed.

"T-turn around." She trembled.

He did as she asked. She struggled step out of her skirts, but managed. She draped it over the chair, and pulled her small clothes over her head. Her skin was like ice, she was too cold to turn around and make sure he wasn't looking at her. As she bent down to pick them up, she collapsed.

Sandor heard her fall and turned around. She covered her parts with her shaking hands. "I'm going to lift you to the blankets, girl." He said, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. "I won't look at you."

She wanted to protest, but she didn't have the strength. His arms slid underneath her, and scooped her up. He held her close to his naked chest, the feeling reminded her of the first moments of a hot bath. She felt him wince a little. "Your rib..."

"Don't worry about me, Littlebird." He smiled. He knelt down and carefully set her down on the pile of blankets. He wrapped one over her and started rubbing her arm. She closed her eyes. "You can't fall asleep."

"Why do you call me that." She whispered. Her head rested in his lap.

"You're at the age where you will start flying from your nest. Not with out falling a few times first."

"I'm not allowed to fall..." She thought out loud. "

She clutched the blanket closer to her. Her body became less tense from the cold. "I did not mean to look away from your face." She admitted in her delirious state. He had been so kind in rescuing her from the storm, she felt it was only right she apologize for offending him. His body tightened underneath her, making it clear his scars were a sore subject.

"You think a girl as sweet as a summer's day could offend me?" He snarled.

She opened her eyes, looking right up at him. She saw in his, that although he would not admit it, her actions did hurt him. His body tensed, uncomfortable with her staring, so she turned her gaze to the fire. It hypnotized her, and she wasn't sure how long she stared. Once she felt her body come back to normal, she spoke again.

"Do you ever have dreams, that are so detailed, they seem real, like you're living another life, and then when you wake up, the memory is gone?"

"I don't remember." Sandor laughed.

Sansa let out a smile. "I feel like I...never mind"

Sandor looked down at her. "What?"

Sansa fidgeted nervously underneath the blankets. "I feel like I met you before. Perhaps in another life." She struggled, but managed to sit up, clutching the blankets around her. She wanted to see his face when she said this, to see if he found it silly. "I feel like, I knew you were coming here, like our paths were meant to cross..."

At first she couldn't read Sandor's face. He didn't move, didn't show any emotions. He just stared at her. "Do not tempt me, girl." His eyes darkened. "You do not know of what you speak."

Sansa's eyes widened as large as saucers. "I do not understand."

"Don't give me your polite words, you do not know me. You do not know of the horrors I've caused."

"I-" She started but was interrupted.

"I'm a killer. If you have brothers, they're killers, your father is a killer." His tone was firm, but not threatening. "The world was built by killers, and here you are, chirping your sweet words to one. You don't strike me as a fool, so don't act like one."

When he finished, Sansa realized how close their faces were. She was at a lose for words. She knew her father had killed men, he fought in many battles, but it was his duty. Same with her brothers. They didn't like it. Something changed in Sandor's eyes, the memories of fighting left him, and he was back in the present. He moved back a little, swallowing hard.

"Forgive me, girl." He started. "I am not used to being spoken to with honesty. In the Red Keep, lies are all that comes out of people's mouths. You need not be afraid, I won't hurt you."

"I am not afraid of you." Sansa whispered. "I am sorry for you. I'm sorry you feel that killing is the sweetest thing there is, for if you ever experienced happiness, you would feel differently."

"Tell me, what do you find to be the sweetest thing?"

Sansa though for a moment. She had never asked herself this question. There were things she enjoyed. Her family, reading on rainy days, needlepoint, making fun of her septa with her sister, Molly's lemon cakes, her direwolf, Lady. All these things she loved dearly, but she could not think of the thing she loved most. She would answer his question, but at another time.

"Would you like me to read to you?" She asked softly.

With out waiting for an answer, Sansa reached for her book. The leather cover was soaked through. As she flipped through the pages, she saw only a few were partially ruined. She had read this story so many times, she was certain she could recite those parts word for word. She shifted, getting more comfortable, and held the blanket around her with one hand. As she read, she never once looked up. she felt his eyes on her the whole time. At first, it made her uncomfortable, not because she was afraid of him, but because she was very aware of how she looked. Her hair had come undone in the storm, and it hung in messy wild curls. The strong winds turned her lips and cheeks red. She finished the first chapter of the story, and didn't remember reading it, for her mind was fixed on Sandor. She was sure he was not concentrating on the book either, so she closed it and held it tightly against her.

The silence that passed between them was deafening. Desperate to break it, Sansa said the first thing that came to her mind. "How are your stitches?"

Sandor turned his head and tried to get a good look at his shoulder. "It's sore, but doesn't look infected. I reckon your seaweed helped."

"There should be some more left." She nodded to her shelves.

Sandor got up and retrieved the small grey bowl off the top shelf. He set it down between them, and sat back down.

"Let me..." Sansa offered.

"I can manage." He protested. "You need to warm yourself." He dipped his fingers into the dark green mush and began painting it onto his shoulder.

Sansa looked at her clothes hanging on the chair. They were still so damp...There's no need for me to feel so embarrassed, she thought. It's only going to make this more uncomfortable. She scooted her body closer to the flames. "Don't get to close!"

His loud voice startled her. She whipped her head around and looked into his eyes. They were full of concern and, something she could only describe as fear. It was strange seeing a man as strong as him looked scared.

"I-I'm sorry." She muttered, scooting back closer to him. He looked like he wanted to apologize as well, but didn't. She couldn't help but notice yet again how the muscles in his arm looked when he moved.

"You stare a lot, girl." He observed. Sansa's breath caught in her throat. "Have you ever seen a man without his clothes?"

His question made her feel warmer than the blankets had the whole time she was wrapped in them. If he knew who he was speaking to, he'd have never asked such a thing. Her anger then turned to curiosity. "Besides my brothers, I have not." She answered as plainly as she could.

"So, you do not belong to anyone?"

She realized in his odd way, he was asking her if she had wed anyone. "I would not say belong is a word I would use to describe the union between two people, but no, I do not belong to anyone." She played with a loose thread in the blanket. "And, you?"

He let out a deep laugh. "Do you think any woman would want to marry me with this." He harshly pointed to his scarred face. "Even if I was as powerful as the Baratheons, or the Starks." She shuddered as he said her family name, It wouldn't be a terrible thing if he knew who she was, she just didn't want him to yet.

"If you were as powerful as either of those families, a woman wouldn't have a choice in marrying you or not." The scars were frightening at first glance, but they were not grotesque. She took in his features on the left side of his face. He had dark brown hair that touched his shoulders, a furrowed brow, deep grey eyes, a prominent nose, and down turned lips. He was unshaven, leaving dark brown hair covering the lower half of his face, but Sansa could still see his strong jaw. While she had never been to Helmsdale, he looked like he belonged in Landale.

"Is the Littlebird calling me handsome?" He smirked.

"Are you asking me to?" She fired back with half a smile. "Tell me what happened..." He looked away.

"Wouldn't you rather read that book of yours again?"

"I've read it countless times." She never broke her gaze. "Tell me your story, and I shall tell you one of mine."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her offer. "It is not one for the faint of heart." He warned.

"I do not have a weak heart." She said, proudly. Those born in the North were born strong.

Sandor took a breath, and began his sad tale. "I was six years of age. My older brother, Gregor, was not the kind any boy, or girl should have as one. He was cruel, I cannot remember a time when he displayed any sort of kindness. He took after my father, who was not cruel to me, but cold. My grandfather was the one who raised me. Upon his return, after one of his travels to the free city of Braavos, he brought both Gregor and I a set of wooden knights. Gregor never played with his." Sandor shifted uncomfortably. "One day, he was out with our father, and I was at home, playing with my toys. In my mind, there was a great battle, and I needed more wooden knights. I took his set from the chest in our room. He hadn't touched them once since my grandfather gave them to us." He took a breath. "When he came home, and caught me playing with his toys, he grabbed my hair, and put my face to the flames. I screamed, but my father did nothing...he told people my mattress caught fire."

His story left tears in her eyes. She couldn't imagine one of her brothers doing anything like that to her. Clutching the blankets around her. She doubted her words could comfort the pain he must constantly feel.

"Now for your story girl."

Sansa thought, the story she had in mind was nothing compared to his. She tried to think of another one to tell, without revealing who she was when a cry in the distance interrupted them.

"Lady Sansa!"

Oh Gods! Sansa immediately recognized the voice as Molly's. Sandor stood at looked out the window.

"Lady Sansa!" She called again.

"There's a plump woman looking for you...Lady Sansa."

She stood, keeping the blankets around her. "You must hide!" She pleaded. "Please, if my father knows about this, he will not listen to you when you say you came here to help our cause. All he will see is his daughter was alone with a man! Go!"

"Where? This hut is but one room." He looked around.

Sansa looked out the window, Molly was getting closer, and it looked like the rain had stopped. "Behind the shelf!" She pushed Sandor, and he knelt down on the opposite side of it. The dark sky helped in hiding him in the dark corner.

Sansa readied herself, and went to the door.

"Lady Sansa-" Molly was just about to knock, but Sansa opened the door before she could, causing her to almost hit her.

"Oh, my dear girl." Molly embraced her. "I was so afraid you would try to climb back up those stairs in this weather."

Sansa closed the door behind her, and led Molly to the fire. "And you climbed down them in this weather!"

Molly set her bag down and held her hands out to the flames. "I'm much more stable on my feet than you." She laughed, and looked Sansa up and down taking in her appearance. "You are a sight." She shook her head, and reached down for her bag. "I brought this, just in case." She pulled a simple light blue wool dress out of her satchel. "The rain stopped for now, we'd best hurry back or we'll have to sleep here all night."

All night? Sansa couldn't imagine Sandor having to hide all night. "You're always right Molly."

Molly stood, motioning for Sansa to take the blankets off so she could dress her. Sansa blushed a deep red. Sandor was right there! She thought. "What's the matter? I've seen you naked since the day you came into this world! No need to be shy now." Molly reached for her blankets, trying to tug them away, but Sansa resisted. Molly stepped back, and out both hands on her hips. "We do not have all day." She used a tone she usually only reserved for Arya. Sansa hated that tone, it made her feel like a child.

There was nothing she could do. Molly was as stubborn as a long Winter. Sansa just had to hope Sandor would not look. With a breath, she let the blankets fall to the floor. Used the the warmth the cocoon of blankets gave her, Sansa's nipples stuck out from the sudden chill in the air. For a moment, she thought she heard Sandor cough.

Molly held the dress open, and Sansa stepped in side it. Molly pulled it up her body, and began tying the back. Having no dry small clothes, Sansa found she quite liked the feeling of the soft wool against her bare skin. She felt better now that she was covered.

"We'll need to get you a hot bath as soon as we get to the castle. I'll make a nice batch of soup for ye'" Molly smiled.

Sansa's skin covered in goose pimples. Surely he knows who I am now...Sansa thought. I can not come back here unless I am ready to tell him the truth. "Thank you, Molly. That would be wonderful." She smiled.

Molly went to the chair and stuffed Sansa's wet clothes in her bag. "Alright child, you'll have to make due with out a cloak. There's no use in putting a wet one on." She fingered the damp material and stuffed it in her bag.

Sansa looked toward where Sandor was hiding, wanting to say something to him.

"What's that?" Her longing thoughts were interrupted by Molly.

Sansa looked in the direction Molly pointed. Oh Gods, Sandor's tunic. Sansa went over to it before Molly could.

"It's one of father's old tunics." She lied. "He must have left it here long ago, I like to keep it here because it smells like him." Sansa held it to her face and inhaled the scent. But it did not smell like her father. It smelled like the forests around her castle, the muskiness of fire wood, and something she could not place. She had never smelled this scent before, but something about it made he knees go weak.

Molly looked her up and down, but a loud crack of thunder stopped her from asking further questions. "Alright then child, we'd best be getting back." She held her arm out. "Come along."

Sansa picked her satchel up from the ground, tripping over the bowl of seaweed. The sound caught Molly's attention. She looked at the bowl, then at Sansa, waiting for an explanation.

"I-I was practicing making medicines. I read about it in my book and wanted to try it myself."

Molly looked at the contents of the bowl. "It takes a lot of strength to mash up seaweed that well."

Sansa could not think of a way out of this, so she started shivering and put on the most pathetic face she cold. "I'm so cold."

Molly's concerned nature took over. She took Sansa's arm and hurried her out the door.

They walked along the beach. Sansa noticed the waves had calmed since earlier. "It's beyond my why you like coming here." Molly observed their surrounding. "In the cold months, it's such a sad place."

Sansa looked around. There was an eerie feel to the beach under the grey skies, covered in mist, but something about it felt magical to Sansa. She held her satchel close, and realized she was still holding Sandor's tunic. A thought invaded her mind. She thought of smelling it again once she was alone in her chambers. She turned back to look at the cabin and saw a shadow move from the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Guards dressed in Stark white and grey opened the castle doors. Sansa and Molly rushed through and were met by Catelyn, Bran, Rickon, and three hand maidens, waiting with blankets.

"Oh my dear girl!" Catelyn wrapped a blanket around Sansa's shoulders. "You're freezing." She turned to one of the handmaidens. "Draw her a hot bath, quickly! And one for Molly as well." She took Sansa's face in her hands, trying to steady her trembling chin. "What were you doing out there?"

"I only went down to read, and find some peace. As I was leaving, the rain started." Sansa shivered. "I just figured

I'd wait there until it was over." She turned to the plump cook. "Thank you, Molly. You saved me,"

"And you took me away from my cooking! Thanks to you we'll be having soup tonight." Molly spat.

"You will do no more work today, Molly." Catelyn kindly said. "I want you to take a long bath and relax."

Molly threw the blanket from her. "And leave those incompetent children to cook dinner. I think not, my lady!"

Catelyn gave her a stern look. Sansa leaned over to Molly and whispered. "I think it's best we do as she says."

Molly took a breath. "Very well. I shall wait for the bath in my room if anyone needs me, or the kitchen catches fire!" With a "humph," Molly waddled out of the main room, her wet shoes squeaking with each step.

Catelyn turned her attentions back to Sansa. "Come, darling." She put her arm around Sansa's waist and led her to her bedroom.

Mother and daughter trailed down the long hall that led to Sansa's room. A deep burgundy carpet laced with gold floral detail covered the hard wood floors. Paintings of Stark's and Tully's before them hung proudly along the walls. Sansa noticed their eyes followed her.

"Why do you feel as though you need to find peace all the way down there?" Catelyn asked.

Truthfully, Sansa liked the being on her own. She loved her family dearly, they were all that filled her heart, but sometimes she felt like she didn't want to be Lady Sansa Stark, princess of Landale, sometimes she just wanted to be Sansa, and quietly exist with the world. "It's quieter down there." She did not want to hurt her mothers feelings. She was a strong woman, but when it came to her children, she was very sensitive, and protective, as all good mother's are.

"Quieter down there?" Catelyn started. "The thunderous sea is quieter than the comforts of your room?" She laughed.

"The thunderous sea is no match for the likes of Arya." Sansa smirked.

Her mother raised an eye brow. "I cannot argue there..." She smiled. "My little wolf. She takes after her brother's. Mayhaps if you spent more time with her-"

"Mother we've discussed this. No matter how much time I spend with her, she will always prefer swords over needlepoint."

Catelyn chuckled. "I don't know what I would do with out you." She kissed the top of her head. "What's that in your hand, dear?"

Sansa looked down. Her hands were still numb from the cold winds, and she had forgotten she was holding Sandor's tunic. "It's father's!" Sansa said, louder than she needed to. "I brought it back up from the beach house."

Catelyn held out her hand. "I'll see that it gets cleaned."

"No." Sansa held the tunic behind her back." Catelyn gave her an odd look. "I umm, I like to keep it with me. It smells like father and I find it comforting when I have bad dreams..." She lied.

Catelyn smiled. "You're still our little girl."

Sansa smiled back. She hated it when they called her that. She was almost a woman now, capable of making her own decisions, and her lie made her mother think otherwise. They came to Sansa's chamber doors, and one of her hand maidens greeted them. "The bath will be ready any moment, m'lady. Would you like lavender or honey milk soap?"

"Honey milk. Thank you, Cecile." Sansa smiled. "Mother..." She looked up into her Tully blue eyes timidly. "Can you please not tell father about this? He was already so uneasy about me going to the beach house alone, I don't want him to forbid it."

Catelyn thought for a moment. Her silence filled Sansa with anxiety. "Please..."

"I will think on it. Now go, warm yourself. Dinner is in an hour." She smiled and walked away.

Sansa closed the door to her room. Cecile started undressing her, but she suddenly remembered she wasn't wearing any small clothes. She didn't want anything to look suspicious. Her hand maidens loved her, but they also loved to talk amongst themselves, and she could not risk being found out.

"Cecile, would you mind fetching me some lemon tea? I can undress myself."

"Are you sure, m'lady?" Cecile pressed.

"Yes, thank you." She smiled.

Cecile looked uncertain, but obeyed her lady, bowed, and left the room. As soon as the door closed, Sansa rushed to take off her dress, and put on her thick wool robe. She lifted Sandor's tunic from the floor and carefully folded it, putting it under her silk pillow. I must sneak into mother and father's room later to steal clothes for him, she thought. Her father was tall and his body shaped from battle, but from what she saw of Sandor, which was a lot, she knew they would not fit him well. He is not used to the Northern climate and can only last so long with out a tunic, she worried.

The pitter patter of rain hitting the window caught Sansa's attention. The skies were as grey as the Stark banner. She usually loved this kind of weather, but there was no way to get food to Sandor in a storm like this. She said a quick prayer to the mother, asking her to let the storm pass quickly, and make sure Sandor was safe. Still in nothing but a robe, Sansa felt a chill and decided to wait for her bath by the fire. She took a seat by the stone fireplace in her chamber, which the servants took the liberty of starting earlier that afternoon.

Alone at last, she stared into the flames and let her mind wander. He knows...she thought. He heard Molly call for me, he knows who I am. It's not that it was a bad thing. Even though she had only spent a little time with him, she trusted he was not a spy, or a man who would take advantage of her for gold. She just wished she could have been that normal girl for a little while longer. He will treat me differently now, she pondered, just like everyone else. He will bow, and call me Lady, and no longer speak his true thoughts. She let herself wallow momentarily before snapping out of it. Gods, if this is my only burden in this life, I have no reason to feel so sorry for myself...

Her handmaidens barged into her chamber with buckets of hot water. The steam danced in the air, disappearing just like the day. Once her tub was filled, the handmaidens took Sansa's wet clothes and left her to bathe in peace. She was chilled to the bone, and the hot water almost burned as she slowly submerged herself. She closed her eyes and relished in the warmth. The fire crackled near her, reminding her of Sandor's story. Gazing into the flames used to be something that relaxed Sansa, but now all she could see was a small boy screaming as his flesh burned. No wonder he got so angry when he found me staring, she thought. It's a tragedy he can't escape. Every time he looks in the mirror, every time he sees someone's eyes roaming over his scars, he has to relive what his brother did to him. Tears stung as they filled her eyes.

"M'lady" Cecile gently knocked on the door.

"Come in." Sansa called. As Cecile opened the door, Sansa slid down in the tub, hoping the bath water would mask her tears. She emerged, and wiped the water from her eyes.

"Your tea, m'lady." Cecile set the delicate cream colored saucer and cup on the same metal tray as the soap.

"Thank you." Sansa smiled.

Cecile left her again, and Sansa sat in the tub for a long time, sipping her tea, thinking about the burned man. She trusted when he carried her to the warmth of the blankets, he kept his word and did not look at her naked body. It was when Molly came and he hid behind the shelf she was worried about. He could have looked and I'd never have known. A blush crept up her neck. Sansa had noticed the changes in her figure, and as she grew out of an uncomfortable girl, to a young woman, she became confident in her beauty. When she ventured into town with her closest friend, Jeyne, she noticed how the men's stares had changed. They no longer looked at her in awe because she was royalty, but because she had inherited her mother's beauty. Sansa did not mind there stares, she was usually so busy laughing with her raven haired friend, she rarely thought anything of it. She asked herself why she felt so uneasy when Sandor's grey eyes were on her. Yes, he had seen more of her than she wished to remember, but even before that, whenever she caught him staring, she wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide until he fixed his gaze elsewhere. It made Sansa angry at herself. She was a Stark! Her mother taught her to have respect for herself, and she felt as though letting Sandor make her feel so uneasy in her skin was going against her mother's lessons. I must not act like a foolish girl at a ball, staring at all the handsome knights with wide eyes! Sansa took another sip of her lemon tea. She set the cup down and picked up the honey milk soap and began washing herself. The sweet aromas relaxed her muscles, and mind.

The dining hall was quiet that evening. Her father and older brothers, Robb and Jon were not present.

Molly sipped her soup. "I suppose it's not as awful as I thought." She took another sip. "Needs more potatoes though."

Sansa giggled. Molly always had to say something, she was impossible to please. The candle lit chandelier that hung above the center of the table cast a dim glow in the room, making Sansa yawn.

"Long day?" Arya mocked. "Getting stuck out in the storm?" She snorted. Arya looked at Bran and Rickon for a laugh, but the kind hearted boys kept their heads down.

"Why is that funny?" Sansa fired back.

"It's juvenile." Arya smirked.

"And calling for father when you have a bad dream isn't?" Sansa glared at her with the wolf in her eyes.

"I don't know what you're-" Arya started.

"You forget sister, my room is right next to yours, and I'm a light sleeper."

Arya went back to eating her soup, muttering insults under her breath.

"Speaking of..." Sansa turned her attention to her mother. "When will father return home?"

"It all depends." She wiped the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin.

"On what?" Bran asked.

Catelyn looked at each of her children. "I see no reason in hiding things from you. You are Stark's and should be aware of what is happening in the realm. Your father and brothers have traveled to the Eastern Isles to ensure their loyalty if Helmsdale chooses to declare war."

"Couldn't we have sent a reven instead?" Arya asked, forgetting all about her argument with Sansa.

"It would be too risky if Helmsdalish spies shot it down. They would know we're preparing for war, and use that as an excuse to try and invade our lands" Catelyn took a sip of her mulled wine. "And it is always better to speak of strategy in person. Words can be easily misconstrued in letters."

"Why would Helmsdale declare war on us? We haven't done anything." Sansa asked.

"The Baratheon's are the most powerful family in all of Gulladorf. They sit on the iron throne." Catelyn started. The Stark children listened closely. "What is left for those with power to seek?"

The siblings were silent. They thought hard on her question.

They were raised noble, yes. But not to rub their status in other's faces.

"More power?" Bran asked.

Catelyn smiled and nodded. "Yes. More power. And us being the second most powerful family, and too be honest, more liked than them, they want our lands."

"But I thought Robert Baratheon was father's friend..." Sansa wondered out loud.

"He was, and still is." Catelyn said. "But his wife is a strong influence on him. She has a manipulative tongue, and although Robert would never do anything to intentionally hurt your father, her want for power is rubbing off on him."

"Why would they want to come here though?" Sansa asked. "Surely they're used to the Southern climate?"

"Yes, I doubt the Baratheon family themselves would move here. Mayhaps they would sent their poor dwarf brother to rule Winterfell. Our home lies in a very important part of this world. History can be found in every stone, and tree. People travel here form all over the world to pray to the weirwood trees, and we allow them to do it freely, when we could easily make a profit off of it. We have different soil here, we grow things they need and have to purchase from us, where as if they owned the North, it would all be there's for the taking. Most importantly, we are closest to the wall.

"What would happen if they did declare war?" Bran asked.

"We would fight. This is our home children. We would do everything we could to protect it."

"And...what if everything wasn't enough? What if they won?"

Catelyn swallowed hard, and thought about how to best answer her sweet child's question with out putting fear into him.

"Well, I imagine we would travel to the eerie and stay with my sister." She smiled warmly. "No matter what happens, you will not be homeless, you will not starve, and you will not be with out love."

Sansa smiled, but worry rushed through her veins. She hadn't thought war would actually happen, but the fact that her father and older brothers were seeking allies, made her realize how serious the situation was.

"Do you think the Greyjoy's will join us?" Bran asked.

"I-" Cateyln thought hard. "The Greyjoy's have been friends with us for many years, but they are unpredictable, and selfish. Hopefully, Theon will convince his father to say yes."

Sansa hadn't seen Theon for a few months. He was one of Robb and Jon's best friends, and Sansa's first proper crush. He had red hair likes hers, though, his had more blonde in it. He was tall, and slim, and always made her laugh. She admired his confidence, but as she grew older, she realized is was not confidence, but cockiness and it started to annoy her. Once, when she was walking her direwolf, Lady, and he joined her. In the middle of the forest asked her for a kiss. If he had asked a few years prior, she would have said yes, but she was no longer interested and respectfully declined. After that, he treated her differently, he no longer joked and teased her, he just plain ignored her. Surely that won't affect his wanting to help us, she thought. He was still best friend's with her brothers after all.

"Gods, Rickon, you're already growing out of those clothes." Catelyn marveled at her youngest child. "We must go into town when the storm passes."

That reminded Sansa of Sandor. Now is the perfect time to sneak into mother and father's chamber and take some clothes, she thought.

"Mother, may I be excused for a moment?" Sansa asked.

"Of course, darling." Catelyn smiled.

A guard came and pulled Sansa's chair out. "Thank you." She said and walked out of the dining hall. As soon as she was out of her mother's sight, she raced down the hall to their chamber. She knew she only had a little time.

Sansa slowed her pace before she turned the corner. She knew guards would be standing outside, and didn't want to appear disheveled. She smoothed her hair, and straightened her gown before continuing.

"Beg pardon, ser..." She timidly said to one of the guards. "My lady mother has sent me here to get her something."

The guard looked at her for a moment, but knew she was no threat. He opened the door for her and moved aside. Sansa smiled and walked inside, closing the door behind her.

The room smelled like a perfect mix of her mother's spicy perfume, and her father's earthy scent. It was strange being in here alone. It felt like she wasn't supposed to be there. Sansa went to her father's deep mahogany dresser and opened a drawer. She avoided her reflection in the mirror, not wanting to look at herself as she stole from her parents.

She took three tunics, figuring her father had so many, and wouldn't notice a few missing. If he did, hopefully he would think they got lost in the laundry. She opened the second drawer and pulled out a pair of brown trousers, and a pair of black ones. Sansa held them up, and examined them. I may have to take these out, she thought. She went into the tall chest, in the corner of her father's side of the room and opened the doors. The creaked as she did, and prayed the guards did not hear. She pulled a black knee length cloak off it's hanger, certain it would fit Sandor.

She closed the chest doors, and gathered the clothes in her hands. She thought about taking a pair of shoes, but decided she would ask Sandor his size before taking them, for that was something her father would definitely notice.

She opened the door of the chamber, holding the clothes close to her person. "Thank you." She said before hurrying back down the halls. As she made her way to her chamber, she passed, Cecile, one of her handmaidens.

"Cecile?" Sansa called.

The young girl bowed, and straightened, folding her hands together neatly in front of her. "Yes, m'lady?"

"Would you mind taking these out a few inches?" Sansa Handed her the clothes.

Cecile looked at the pile. "All of them?"

"Well..." Sansa took the cloak back. "I suppose this is fine, but the rest, yes."

"Yes, that shouldn't be a problem, m'lady."

"Can you have it done by tomorrow morning?" Sansa cringed, knowing she was asking a lot of the young hand maiden.

"Tomorrow morning?" Cecile quickly covered her mouth, realizing she spoke out of turn. "Beg pardon-"

"No please." Sansa put her hand of her shoulder. "Don't apologize, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I could give you coin, and see that you are given a few days to yourself."

"I suppose a day to myself would be quite nice." Cecile smiled.

"I think a week would be better than a day."

"A week" Cecile's eyes gleamed with happiness.

"Yes." Sansa smiled. "As long as you keep this conversation to yourself. No one must know."

"Of course, m'lady."

Sansa could see the excitement of gossiping with the other hand maiden's grow in her eyes. As long as mother doesn't find out. "Thank you so much, Cecile. Just leave them outside of my door when it's finished.

Cecile bowed. "Yes, m'lady." She shuffled away with her task at hand.

Sansa watched her go, then turned around to go back to the

dining hall, but came face to face with her little sister. She gasped and pressed her hand to her heart. "Gods Arya!"

"What were you doing?" Arya wasted no time in digging her nose in Sansa's business.

"That is no concern of yours. Good, she thought, he sister hadn't seen. Arya crossed her arms over her chest. "What?" Sansa cried.

"You're up to something, and I'll find out sooner or later."

Sansa started walking to the dining hall, Arya followed close behind. She was much shorter than Sansa, and struggled to keep up. "Gods Arya, really! Why are you so keen on knowing what I'm doing?"

"It keeps me entertained." She put simply.

Sansa rolled her eyes and groaned. "I cannot wait for Robb and Jon to come back, then you'll leave me be!"

"Yeah, yeah." Arya mocked. "Mother went to bed early, so don't bother going back to the dining hall."

Sansa continued anyway. "I'm going to get more dessert, I'm still hungry." She lied. Truth was, she had to go in the kitchens and steal food for Sandor. Knowing Molly was now suspicious, she couldn't ask her to cook for her.

"I'll go with you." Arya skipped by her side.

"You know Molly hates it when you go in there." Sansa said, hoping her little sister would change her mind.

"That's never stopped me."

"Why don't you wait in my room, and I'll bring you some. I have a better chance of Molly giving it to me than you do."

Sansa prayed Arya would take the bait

"Alright fine. If there are any of those chocolate muffins I want those."

"Okay." Sansa rolled her eyes again. Arya turned and went the other way toward Sansa's chamber.

Sansa walked as quietly as she could into the kitchen. The light was on, but no one was in there. She took a basket from the cupboard and filled it with everything she could find. A loaf of toasted bread, sliced ham, apples, cheese, and muffins. Sansa remembered Sandor saying he enjoyed wine, so she poured a flagon and stuffed it in the basket. This should be enough, she hoped. The sound of rain came down harder, and she grabbed the basket and turned out the light.

Luckily, Sansa made it to her chamber with out running into anyone. She set the basket down, and took the muffins out. She would come back for the basket after Arya left. She opened her chamber door. The fire was still ablaze and it was nice and toasty.

"Arya." She whispered. She looked around, but did not see her until her eyes fell on her bed. Arya had fallen asleep. She was so small, she barely took up any room. Sansa jumped on the bed and poked her. "Arya wake up! I have your muffins."

She held them under her nose, thinking the smell would wake her, but Arya groaned and turned over, settling in.

Sansa let out a huff. She thought it funny how her wild, ferocious sister could look so sweet while she slept.

Sansa was cold from the kitchens, so she went and took a seat by the fire and picked at one of the muffins. A loud crash of thunder filled the sky, and Arya woke up, whimpering. As much as Sansa wanted to make fun of her, she patted the blanket and Arya jumped off the bed and ran to her sister. Sansa held out the muffin, and the girls sat there silently, eating, as the fire danced in front of them.

Eventually, Arya grew tired and headed back to her own chamber. She was tired, and it was dark, so she did not notice the basket of food outside Sansa's door.

Sansa brought the basket inside, setting it down by her dresser. She stretched and undid the back of her dress. It was simple enough to untie by herself. It fell to the floor, and she hung it back up. She put a cotton yellow nightgown over her head, and crawled into bed. She blew out the slim canle by her bed and nestled under the thick fur blankets. As she put one hand under the pillow, Sansa felt Sandor's tunic. She had forgotten she put it there. Another loud crash of thunder filled the sky, startling her. She pulled the tunic out from under her pillow. It was soft. Feeling less embarrassed in the darkness, Sansa put it to her face and inhaled. Sandor's scent instantly steadied her beating heart. She couldn't get enough of the musky, earthy smell, and breathed into it until she fell peacefully asleep.

Sansa did not dream that night, for she slept so well. She laid there, with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the rain. Her eyes shot open, and she ran to the window. The rain did not sound as harsh as it did the say before, and to her relief, the stormed seemed to have passed. The sky was grey, and the land misty with morning gloom, but it did not look too treacherous to travel in.

Sansa smiled with excitement and quickly changed out of her night dress, and into an emerald colored gown, with a gold belt, and matching gold detail along the neckline and sleeves. The sleeves went down to her knees.

She brushed out her auburn curls, and put them in a simple fishtail braid, securing it with an emerald ribbon.

She dabbed a bit of lavender oil on the insides of her wrists and behind her ears.

Basket in hand, Sansa left her chamber. Thank the Gods, no thank Cecile, she thought, as she looked down at the pile of neatly folded clothes, ready for Sandor. She stuffed them in her bag and headed down the halls, silent as a mouse, on her way to Sandor.

She had been so preoccupied with thoughts of the storm, and making sure he had warm clothes and food, she hadn't had time to think about what she would say to the man she saved. He knew who she was now, and possibly saw her naked... and she knew his sad story. She felt like they bonded more than she had with any potential suitor, and for some reason, it made her nervous. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and continued through the castle. Instead of sneaking out of the kitchen, as she was certain Molly would not allow her to leave again, Sansa snuck out the door that led to the horse stables. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and ventured out into the rain, that dusted the land with glistening dew drops.


	6. Chapter 6

The worst of the storm had thankfully passed, but it was not completely over. When Sansa left the castle, the rain was merely a light sprinkling, but now, as Sansa walked along the cliffs to the stairs that led down to the beach, the rain felt like someone throwing small pebbles at her. She wore brown boots, which helped keeping her from slipping in the mud, but not by much. The basket of food, and bag full of heavy clothes wasn't making the journey easier.

Sansa took a moment to breath, and let her shoulders relax. She set the basket, and bag down on the grass and looked up at the sky. The hood of her cloak fell from her head, and she relished in the way the water refreshed her face. A strong gust of wind sailed across the cliffs, making the grass danced with movement. It sent a chill down Sansa's spine. She put the hood back over her head, and lifted her burden from the grass.

She stood atop the mountain made stairs, looking down at the sand. It was a long way, already made more difficult by the amount she carried, but even more so by the rain. Taking a breath, Sansa wrapped the bag over her shoulder, and moved the handle of the basket to her elbows so she could grab into the rocks. She took the first step, steading herself. Go nice and slow and you'll be fine, she reassured herself. Nice and slow.

The first few steps were easy enough, but as she got to the middle, the difficulty increased. She stepped down, and lost her footing, but only for a moment. She held on tight to the rocks and took a few breaths, regaining her composure and focus before continuing. Doubt regarding her decision to see Sandor today started to fill her mind, but she stopped it. No Sansa, you made it this far. You cannot doubt yourself. With another breath, she climbed down further. She didn't give into the desperation to peak at the ground.

Finally, she felt the softness of the sand under her boot. A sign of relief escaped her lips. Thank the Gods. She rested for a moment, the weight of the basket and bag were starting to make her arms shake. She sat on the last step and looked at the cabin ahead. Something she could only describe as butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. She looked back up at the mountain side. Seeing how far she came in the weather gave her bravery, and she stood.

She trudged through the sand, looking at the vast sea. The already massive waves were even more monstrous from the storm. The loud crashes of water echoed along the beach. Sansa was lightly sprayed with salt water, but she kept going.

Sandor must have seen her from out the window of the cabin, for he ran outside, only in his breeches. "What are you doing?" He yelled.

Sansa didn't bother answering, no matter how loud she yelled, he wouldn't be able to hear her. By the time he reached her, he was soaked to the bone. "Have you lost your mind, girl?" He barked.

"You needed food! And I brought you clothes." Sansa shivered.

Sandor took the basket of food, and bag from her and set them down on the sand. "Come on."

With out hesitation, he lifted her off her feet, and ran her back to the safety of the cabin. Sansa wanted to protest, she was not used to being handled so casually, but it was such a chivalrous thing to do, she said nothing.

He set her down. "Wait for mew inside." He instructed.

She did as he requested, and watched from the window as he ran back to retrieve the goods she brought for him.

He barged through the door. "Buggering hells!" He shook his wet hair out.

Sansa yelped as the cold droplets his her face and chest.

Sandor lightly smiled at her.

"You're all wet again." He raised an eyebrow.

Sansa would have slapped him for his joke, but she was relieved to see so far, he wasn't treating her differently." She took the bag from his hands and opened it. "I came prepared." She pulled out another dress and pair of small clothes.

Sandor let out a hearty chuckle. "The rest is for you. Tunic, trousers, and a cloak." Sandor started digging through the bag, looking at the clothes. "I had them taken out so they would fit you better." His silence made her nervous. "I wasn't sure if you needed boots, but I can bring some next time if you do-"

"Littlebird..."He looked up at her, and she saw something in his grey eyes, almost as stormy as the day. She saw appreciation. "Thank you." He muttered.

The way his voice cracked led her to believe no one had ever done what she thought to be a simple gesture for him. She smiled down at him. Her eyes moved to his arm. The stitches seemed to be holding. "It looks like it's healing."

"Aye." He responded.

"Mayhaps we should change." Sansa suggested.

"Do you need help out of that dress?"

Sansa blushed at his question. "No, I wore simpler clothes this time." She twirled her finger. "Turn around, and don't look until I say."

He smirked and did as she asked. "Yes, my lady."

Sansa turned red. "Please don't call me that." She whispered."

"Why not, it's what you are."

"Not here." She turned around to face him. "Here, I'm just Sansa."

"Well Sansa." He imitated her finger twirling. "Would you mind turning back around so I can take off these wet breeches."

She laughed, and did as he asked. Thankful that he was still his crude self with her. Though it shocked her at first, she started to pay no mind to the rough demeanor. Unlike the knights she met at balls, he had a quality they did not. Honesty.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." She blurted out as she stepped out of her dress, and small clothes.

"The only thing you have to apologize for is making me run out in the buggering rain again." He said, his voice muffled by his tunic going over his head.

Sansa smiled. "I was nervous." She stepped into her dry small clothes. The fire behind her warmed her back.

Sandor chortled. "The lady was nervous to see the dog?"

"Why do you call yourself that?" It's awful."

"It's what I am. I'm no better than a trained dog, sent to kill and fetch whatever it's master wishes." Sandor tied his trousers, and waited for Sansa to finish dressing herself.

Sansa assumed he was talking about his time with Joffrey. She had never met the prince, but surely he couldn't be as horrid as Sandor described. She stepped into the dry dress. It was a rich velvet maroon with the same gold belt as her green dress. The sleeve were shorter, only going down to her hips, and the neckline went lower, exposing the tops of her breasts. "You can turn around now." He did so, and as soon as he saw her, his eyes roamed her body, and hers roamed his. "The clothes fit nicely." She breathed. Mayhaps she should offer Cecile two weeks off.

"They do." He stretched his arms, testing the material. "Thank you, again."

Sansa smiled.

Sandor nodded, and brought the basket closer to the fire, but not too close. He slowly sat beside it, flinching slightly at his rib. Sansa took a seat on the opposite side of the basket.

"This was all I could bring, I'm afraid. I couldn't let Molly know I was coming back down here." She said apologetically.

"Was that the tomato of a woman who came down here?" He asked.

She laughed at his description of her.

Sandor opened the basket and marveled at the food. "This is better than anything I was given in Helmsdale." He started chewing on the ham.

"Is he really so cruel?" Sansa asked, regarding Joffrey.

"Yes." He chewed. "And that's all I'll say about it. Lady or not, the stories I could tell you would haunt your dreams."

Sansa wanted desperately to know, but didn't pressure him. If even he was saying it was disturbing, she believed him.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?"

"I had everything I need there." He broke off a piece of bread and offered her some. Having not eaten, Sansa was hungry and gladly took some. "A room, food, plenty of wine, women..."

Sansa's heart dropped when he said that. Why, she did not know. She tried to hide it, but Sandor seemed to be able to read her like a book.

"Not many good looking ones over there though. So far, it seems the North is where the beautiful women are."

Sansa rolled her eyes and smiled at his jest.

"Especially that Molly." He joked.

She laughed at threw a grape at him, but he was too quick and caught it in his large mouth.

"My family thinks the Baratheon's want to declare war on us. Is that something you think they would do?" She asked.

Sandor thought for a moment. "I cannot say for certain. Joffrey and his mother are cruel and power hungry, but Robert is a merciful king. I cannot see him doing that unless the circumstances were extraordinary."

That eased Sansa's mind a little and she ate another grape. The warmth of the fire felt so good, Sansa decided to take her hair out of the constricting braid so it could dry faster. As she slowly undid it, from tip to root, combing it through with her fingers, she caught Sandor starring.

"I thought you said you had plenty of women in Helsmdale, and yet you act like you've never seen one before." She teased.

"Not one looked like you." He said entranced.

Sansa blushed. She had inherited her mothers Tully red hair and blue eyes, and was known as a beauty, but no empty compliment payed to her ever made her feel the way Sandor's words did in that moment. She starred at him in awe. What a curious man, she thought. He's rough as stone, and yet on occasion, like a cloudy day, a lightness shines through him. He mistook her silence for judgment. "Never been spoken to like that by an ugly dog like me, eh?" He laughed.

"Don't call yourself that." She commanded.

"I thought you weren't a lady in here. Why should I obey you?" He asked.

Sansa wanted to get mad, but she couldn't. He had been through enough, so she reached into the basket and pulled out the flagon of wine. "You should obey because there is not juice in here, but wine and if you call me lady one more time, you can't have any."

He looked almost proud of her. He crossed his arms, playing her game. "And you're going to drink that all by yourself, are you?" He asked.

Sansa nodded.

"Go on then." He motioned. "Drink."

One thing Sansa inherited form her father was stubbornness. She would not let him win. She opened the flagon, and looked at him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to make the next move. She didn't give him the satisfaction of scaring her, so she drank. It burned her throat, and she swallowed three large gulps before coughing.

Sandor laughed and clapped his hands. "Well done." He reached for the flagon, but Sansa put it behind her back again. "I promise, I won't call you lady ever again."

Sansa smirked, and handed him the flagon, from which he drank like he had been dying of thirst. "What is this?" He breathed.

"It's made by a man who lives in Winterfell. He waits until the grapes shrivel, so there's only a drop left in them. The sweetest part, which is why the wine is so sweet, with hints of honey. It's called ice wine."

"I've had lots of wine, but never ice wine. I prefer reds, but this is good." He took another sip, and offered it to Sansa. Raised a proper lady, it was rude to decline, so she took one more sip, thinking about how her lips were touching the same place Sandor's had.

She handed it back to him. "I'll bring you some red next time."

"When will that be?" He asked.

If the weather stays like this, not until the day after tomorrow. Climbing down the mountain was tricky in the rain." She answered.

"I won't have you risking your neck over wine." He laughed.

"I almost did." Sansa started. She told him the story of Molly, and how she hates it when people go in her kitchen when she's not around. Sandor's laughter encouraged Sansa, and with the help of the wine, she got up and started doing her best impressions of her. Sandor laughed so hard he almost fell back."

"Please." He gasped between laughs. "I beg you to stop. My ribs can't take it." He clutched his wound. Tears from laughing streamed down his face.

Sansa plopped down on the floor next to him. Her face red from the wine. Their laughter died down, but when they looked at each other, it started up again.

"Oh Gods." Sansa looked over to the pile of blankets he used as a bed were. Her book laid on top of his pillow. "Have you been reading that?" She asked.

"I couldn't bloody well stare at the walls all day." He defended. "If this is all you ladies fill your heads with, it's a wonder you're able to function in society."

"Do you like it?" She asked.

He avoided her stare fro a few moments. "I'd like to know what happens at the end." Was all he admitted.

That was enough for Sansa to squeal with excitement. "It's my absolute favorite story. Please, let me ready some for you." She said, eyes wide with happiness.

"If it will get you to stop your swaking, alright."

Sansa shot up and grabbed the book from his pillow. She plopped back down and rested on her stomach. She looked up at him, and patted the blanket next to her. "Well come on, get comfortable." The wine gave her false courage.

"My rib." He said.

"Then lay on your back." Sansa grabbed a pillow and set it down next to her. "Here." She smiled.

He did as she asked, and slowly lowered himself onto the pillow.

"Now, what part were you up to?" She asked.

He rubbed his forehead. "The captain was about to turn his ship around and sail back to Victorsburg to-"

Sansa interrupted. "To tell Frida he loves her? Oh that's the best part!" She flipped the pages until she found the page she was looking for.

"North, Captain? William asked. Aye, said the Captain, eyes to the sea, we're going back." Sansa read. She slurred a little, because of the wine, but for the most part she read beautifully.

At first, Sandor watched her read, smiling at the way she face emoted the words, but after a while, he closed his eyes, letting the story take him away, finally understanding why she loved this story so. It was a way to escape.

"Why be capable of feelings if we're not meant to have them? Why long for things if they're not meant to be ours?" Sansa read, her voice catching. She closed the book.

"Is that the end?" Sandor's brows furrowed.

"Yes."

He opened his eyes and sat up. "How can that be the end?"

"Some love stories don't all end happily, Sandor. That's why I like this one so much. It's honest and true." She looked deep into his eyes when she said that. "It isn't afraid to disappoint you."

Her words surprised him. "I would've thought you to be the kind who only liked stories with happy endings."

"Why?"

"Because, you're a princess."

"That doesn't mean life is full of songs and nonsense. I have a duty to my people. To my mother and father. Certain things are expected of me, and while my life is not bad, I have no control over it."

"What is it you wish you could control?"

"Everything. Where I go, what I do, who I marry."

"With control comes great responsibility, and worry. Have you ever had to worry about money? Or food? Or if you'll be warm enough?" He asked harshly.

"No. And don't think I don't appreciate what I have, I do more than you know. But does that mean I cannot wish for other opportunities? Like this." Sansa looked around. "Here, I can talk to you how ever I please, even sit however I like." She laughed. "And I feel as though I know more about you than some of my closest friends."

Sandor was taken a back by her answer. As much as he wished to argue, he could not deny the point she made. "You do not want me as a friend."

"Why not?" She asked.

"I'm a killer."

"You told me all men are killers. Even my father and brothers. Why are you any different?"

"Because I enjoy it, and I doubt the honorable Stark's do." He spat.

Sansa sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I'd like for you to be my friend." She looked down at her intertwined fingers.

"For a girl who doesn't wanted to be treated as a princess, you know how to bark out orders." He smiled, the scars on the right side of his face twisted with mouth.

She realized she was starring, and did not want to offend him, so she turned her gaze to the fire, but the flames turned into a little boy screaming, and she looked away quickly.

"Don't feel sorry for me, girl."

"How can I not!" Sansa cried. "It's awful what he did to you!"

"And I think about cutting off every limb on his body until he begs for death, but that won't change anything! People will never see me as anything but a monster!" Sandor stood, but he did too quickly, for his hand went to his rib.

Sansa stood and touched his arm, starling him. He was not used to being touched unless it was another man trying to kill him. "Sit down." She said softly.

Together, they sat by the fire. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He looked away, into the flames. He must be reliving the horrors of that night, she thought. She wanted to distract him from the memories, but wasn't sure of what to do. She thought of her mother, who always put her hand on Eddard's when he was upset or cross. The simple, yet meaningful touch never seized to make him smile.

Sansa timidly brought her hand up to the burned side of his face, turning it to her so he faced her straight on. His skin felt hard and rough, but Sansa didn't focus on that. She focused on they eyes that were starring back at her. Full of more sadness than she's ever seen one man carry. "I don't think you're a monster."

"Don't touch me." He said is a low voice.

Sansa moved her body closer to his and pressed her other hand to the unburned side of his face. His stubble poked her palm, but his cheek was warm.

"You're not a monster," She whispered again.

She felt Sandor's jaw unclench, and the tension leave his body. She watched as the rage left his eyes, and were replaced with something else. The butterflies did not return to her stomach, for she felt certain in what she was about to do.

In the secrecy of the cabin, with the rain lightly beating down on the roof, Sansa felt like a different person. Like she could do anything she desired, and what she desired was to kiss Sandor. She moved her face closer to his. She heard his breath quicken along with hers. His hand touched her back and they closed the space in between them. Her soft pink lips pressed against his.

Her first kiss.

The scarred side of his mouth felt rough against hers, but she didn't mind. As their kiss deepened, he wrapped his arms around her waist and she moaned into his mouth. Her body felt like it was on fire. She didn't open her eyes, for the room felt like it was spinning. Oh Gods...this is happening, she thought. She let go of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their lips moved together so naturally, making her moan again, but to her displeasure, Sandor pushed her away.

She starred at him, breathing hard, with her mouth open and red from his stubble.

"Sansa...I'm sorry." He said huskily. "I shouldn't of-"

That was all Sansa needed to hear. He did not want her kiss. She stood and grabbed her cloak off the chair, wrapping it around her tightly.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

With out a second glance she ran out of the cabin. The rain was light enough to where she could confidently climb the mountain. So ran, as fast and as hard as she could along the beach. She could've sworn she heard him call after her, but she didn't turn back. She would run until she reached her bed chamber.


	7. Chapter 7

"Gentle mother, font of mercy

Save our sons from war, we pray,

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

Gentle mother, strength of women,

Help our daughters through this fray,

Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,

Teach us all a kinder way."

Sansa repeated the mother's hymn over and over as she braved the cold weather, trying to distract herself. Climbing back up the mountain's side was no easy task, but without the weight of the basket and bag she climbed down with, it was manageable. Arms crossed, keeping herself as warm as she could, she hurried along the cliffs edge. She brought her fingers up to her lips, remembering the feeling of Sandor's against hers. It was her first kiss.

Gods, she breathed. A slight laugh escaped her mouth, and she tried to suppress the smile that was growing like a daisy in Spring. I kissed him. It went against the way she was raised. She was a highborn lady, and was to be courted by a royal suitor. Chaperoned visits and outings were to take place before any sort of displayed affection. Yes, she thought, that was how it was supposed to be. Instead, unlike the stories she treasured, it was the maiden who rescued the man from the sea. She was the hero.

What would mother think? Or worse, father... They must never know. She remembered she caught Robb kissing a girl from the village in the stables once. She was beautiful, her hair the color of chestnut. She was a seamstress, and always helped Sansa pick colors that complimented her skin tone when she visited her shop. When Eddard learned about the affair, he was not angry. He told Robb to remember his duties, but that was enough for him to never see the seamstress again. Sansa doubted her father would be as merciful with her. There was something different in the way he treated her brothers. He loved all his children, dearly, and equally, but the boys got away with more.

A strong gust of wind lifted the hem of Sansa's dress. The rain had stopped while she was in the cabin, but it left the air as cold as ice. The tall grass swayed with the breeze, reminding her of the sea. As Sansa kept on to the castle, she passed the sacred spot where Volantis was pushed. The way the mountain pointed so sharply made it recognizable to all who knew the sad tale. Enchanted by the romantic tragedy, Sansa walked to the edge of the point, steading herself and she peaked her head over. The sea crashed violently against the side of the mountain. Jagged rocks stuck out of the dark depths like daggers. There was no escaping death if one was to fall, though Sansa couldn't help but wonder, what the moments before hitting the water's surface might feel like.

As another gust of wind sailed over the cliffs, Sansa spread her arms out a closed her eyes, envisioning falling from the height of the mountain. Rather than falling, the wind blew her red curls away from her face, her cloak away from her body, she felt more like she was flying. She laughed and started flapping her arms, soaring over the stone castle, and the villages of Landale, She imagined how small everything must look from up there. How meaningless all the little problems were in the this life. It was a kiss that was true and pure, and I will not be sorry for it.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at the world before her. She did not look back down at the rough waters, but up, at the grey skies. Achoo! She wiped her nose with her hands, and decided it was time to hurry back before she caught cold. She wrapped her coat around her, and kept her eyes to the ground, avoiding the muddy patches of dirt.

When she glanced up, she saw could see the tops of the towering stone castle, over the tress of the small forest that lived just outside the stables. She hated traveling through the darkness of the wood alone, but she did not want to be caught by her mother, or worse, Molly on her way back inside the castle. Achoo! Even if she wanted to avoid the wood, it was the quickest way, and her eyes felt watery from sneezing. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, and ventured into the depths or the trees.

There were no weirwoods, the sacred tree of the Old Gods, in this part of Landlale. The grass was shorter, and deeper shades of green than that on the cliffs. Tall, thin trees, stuck out of the ground from all sides. Their branches expanded at the tops, and intertwined with each other, casting an eerie gloom. Sansa hurried through the trees. She could not remember the last time she came through these parts. Rustling in the bushes, and screeching in the trees made her walk so fast, she was practically running by the time she emerged from the creepy woods.

She carried herself up the curved stone steps that led to one of the servants entrances of the castle. It was mostly used for gardeners, who spent their days in the fields, to come through with out tracking mud or insects into the castle. Sansa wiped her nose with the sleeve of her cloak, she had forgotten to carry a handkerchief with her. No matter, I'll see that it gets washed.

She pressed her back against a stone wall, and pocked her head around the side, making sure no one was there. She didn't want to risk any servants seeing her, and spreading the news amongst each other to where it reached her mother's ever listening ears.

With no one in sight, Sansa turned the corner and quickly ran into the castle, unseen. She had never come through this way, and for a moment, she was lost. A servant girl passed her, unaware of her presence and Sansa followed her until she came to a part of the castle she could navigate. She took off her traveling cloak and folded it under her arm before continuing, in case she was stopped.

Tip toeing through the corridors, she carefully made her way to her bed chambers. As she started down the hall that led to her room, Gwendoline, one of her hand maidens was coming toward her from the opposite end.

"M'lady." She bowed.

"Good morning, Gwendoline." Sansa coughed, and her hand maiden furrowed her brows.

"Are you well, m'lady?" She asked.

"Yes." Sansa sniffled, and let out a smile. "I'm fine. Would you mind drawing me a hot bath?"

"Of course, m'lady. I'll see to it that the fire in your room is lit as well."

"Thank you."

Gwendoline bowed and hurried down the hall.

Sansa opened the door to her chambers, and sat on the bed, relaxing from the busy morning. Remembering her cloak, she got up and hung it in her wardrobe before anyone saw. She settled back on the edge of her bed, and let her mind wander.

She cursed herself for immediately thinking of Sandor, and the kiss they shared not a hour ago. How odd, that someone she met only days ago could make her forget herself. He did more than that. He made her feel like she was her own person. She enjoyed all the lessons in dancing, singing, needlepoint, and history, but they were the same things every other noble born lady was taught. She felt it didn't give her anything unique to say, but when it came to Sandor, she could discuss her true interests and thoughts. Books, war, her family, even the Gods! She had never met a man she could speak so freely in front of, and who spoke so freely to her. It was like drinking water after going days with out it. She could not stop. Nor do I want to...

Her handmaidens entered her chambers with large buckets of streaming water. One of them knelt by the fireplace and started the fire. As the others poured water into the bath, Sansa watched what started as a small flame grew into a roaring fire, warming the room.

A light knock drew the attention of Sansa and her handmaidens, who bowed when they saw the Queen standing in the doorway.

"I heard you were not well." Catelyn walked in and sat on the bed next to Sansa. She pressed the back of her ring covered hand to her forehead. "You feel warm."

"There's a fire going, mother." Sansa joked.

"Bess, fetch some milk of the poppy please." Catelyn ordered.

"Yes, your grace." Bess bowed and hurried out the door.

"Achoo!" Sansa let out a mighty sneeze. Catelyn handed her a handkerchief.

"What doesn't feel right, darling?

There was no point in trying to pretend she was not ill, her mother could smell her children's lies a mile away. "I woke up sneezing and coughing." Sansa rubbed her eye lids. "My eyes feel so heavy."

"Thankfully, it doesn't sound too serious. Just a snowfall's chill, as my mother used to call it." Catelyn smiled. "Take a nice bath, then get into bed. I'll return later with soup." Catelyn stood, and placed a loving kiss on Sansa's forehead.

"Thank you, mother."

After the bath was filled, and the handmadens undressed Sansa, her body sank in the warm water, allowing her aching muscles to relax. She had left the cabin in such a hurry, she didn't realize the toll the climb had taken on her body.

Away from the magic of the cabin, reality started to seep it's way into her mind. Why did he push me away, she asked herself. Mayhaps all the compliments given to me have blinded me in such a way that I assume everyone thinks I'm beautiful...Their words have given me false confidence. But no, she remembered. He kissed me back. He grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. He did want to kiss me!

Her excitement caused her to explode in a coughing fit. Gwendoline rushed in. "My lady?"

Sansa held her hand up, and in between coughs managed to say. "I'm fine."

Gwendoline hesitantly closed the door.

Sansa smiled to herself. She had never felt this way before. Yes, she had danced and dined with handsome men at parties, and balls. One had even kissed her on the cheek, but none had ever made Sansa feel this way. The kiss she shared with Sandor filled her with more warmth than any fire or bath. It felt like the rough sea crashing against the cliffs side. Like a thousand horses riding into battle. Oh Sandor, she thought. How she wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers again. She gently laid her head on the edge of the tub. Sandor...She inhaled and tried to remember the way he smelled when they kissed. She could taste the ice wine on his lips. Hints of honeysuckle lingered on her tongue.

Dressed in her cotton night gown, saved for colder months, Sansa was curled up in her bed. She wrapped both hands around her tea, relishing in the warmth. With each hour, she seemed to be getting worse. When she peaked at her appearance in the vanity before getting into bed, her nose was bright red, her eyes swollen, and her lips chapped.

The soup her mother brought eased her throat, but only for a moment. She sipped her lemon tea, mixed with honey, set it down, and continued her reading, though she found herself repeating the same verse over and over, for her mind was still in the cabin with Sandor. She reached under her silk pillow and felt for his tunic. She brought the shirt to her face and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents of sea water, firewood, and his own natural smell. The muskiness gave her the same sensation his kiss did. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and she did not know how to satisfy it. She brought her hand down to her stomach, putting pressure on where the butterflies flew, hoping that would ease the feeling. It did not. She let her hand trail lower, craving the warmth her body was giving off. Once she felt her red curls between her fingers, she opened her eyes and gasped.

She blushed red with embarrassment and excitement. It heightened, and eased the feelings in her lower stomach. She let her fingers travel even further down to her folds, letting out a breathy laugh. She slowly started rubbing herself. The feeling intensified. She closed her eyes and gripped his tunic, imagining she was grabbing his skin. Mmm... she remembered the way his warm muscles felt underneath her finger tips. She had felt the male form before, while dancing, and none had ever felt as strong, or powerful as Sandor's. A true warrior, she thought. Her breathing quickened as she rubbed herself faster. Her nipples hardened through her night gown, her body reacting in a way it never has to the foreign feeling. Sansa bit her lower lip and kept rubbing. Oh Gods...Sandor. Sandor. Sandor.

Knock knock knock.

Sansa nearly fell out of bed from the sudden noise. Her heart was pounding. "J-Just a moment!" She called with a shaky voice.

She straightened her hair, and pulled the covers back up. She opened her book, but spotted the tunic in the corner of her eye. She gasped and quickly stuffed it back under her pillow before settling back in. "Come in."

The door opened, and Molly waddled in carrying a bowl of something. "I heard you were not well, m'lady." She sand in her Helmsdalish accent. "I brought you this." She set it down by the tea, and plopped down on Sansa's bed.

Sansa sat up, and looked at the concoction her cook made. The smell stung her nostrils. She scrunched her face. "What is it?"

"Doesn't matter." She took a spoonful and held it out for Sansa. "Go on. It'll make you feel better, and not look like a ripe tomato." She laughed.

Sansa rolled her eyes, and took the spoon from Molly. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, thank you." She put the spoon in her mouth, and threw it back at Molly. After struggling to swallow, she opened her mouth, and fanned herself. "I need milk!" She yelped. What ever it was Molly had given her was burning her mouth to no end.

"You can't have milk, m'lady. It'll make you all stuffy again." She lifted the bowl and took another spoonful. "This will clear all that up." She smiled, moving the spoon closer to Sansa. She shook her head as a child would, but Molly's stern look made her open wide, and swallow another bite of the remedy.

After coughing, and wiping the tears from her eyes, Sansa started to breathe easier. "Gods, Molly." She inhaled some more. "It worked."

"Of course it bloody did!" She took the bowl back. "That should keep you alseep through out the night, and out of my kitchen."

Sansa's heart raced. "What are you talking about?"

"When I went in my kitchen this morning, there was food missing." She raised an eye brow.

"I didn't take it!" Sansa was never good at lying, but the sickness seemed to be working in her favor, making her sound more pathetic. "I swear. It must have been Arya."

"That's what I thought."

Sansa sighed with relief.

"But then I realized a bottle of wine was missing, and I know for a fact, the young wild girl does not like the taste. In fact, if I remember correctly it was you, Lady Sansa, who stole a bottle before when your friend, Jeyne stayed the night."

Sansa looked down and blushed. She knew she had been caught, but was never good at facing consequences. Luckily, Molly spoke before she had to.

"Now I don't know what's going on down there," Sansa's eyes shot up at Molly's. Oh Gods, she's talking about the cabin. Sansa knew Molly was suspicious ever since she went down there. "But it's going to stop right now. Especially when it involves my kitchen!"

Sansa's eyes welled up with tears. Molly had such a way of making her feel like a little girl in trouble. She nodded in agreement.

"I'm not mad," Molly started in a much calmer voice. "I just don't want to see you like this. Wandering back into the castle, soaked to the bones, shaking, now you're sick! It's very dangerous!"

"I know, Molly." Sansa breathed. "I'm sorry."

Molly exhaled and looked at her, with worry in her eyes. "Get some rest, child. I'm making soup later, and I'll see that your maidens keep bringing you tea." Molly stood from the bed, leaving behind a large dip where she sat.

She placed her hand on Sansa's forehead just as her mother did. "Mhm!" She huffed, as she walked out. "That's what happens when you run around in the rain."

Sansa let out a little chuckle at Molly's attempted joke, but truthfully did not feel like laughing. All she wanted to do was get better so she could go back to the cabin. Running was foolish, she told herself. You were not raised to behave like that. She was not raised to be alone with a man and kiss him either, but she didn't bother telling herself that. She knew, but she couldn't bring herself to be sorry about it. She brought her hands to her face and couldn't help but laugh at what Molly almost caught her doing. How would I explain myself? She laughed.

Her septa, and mother both had conversations with her about what happens when a couple is wed, but they never went into the feelings the act of love making could bring to a person. Were those feelings, normal? She wondered. Sandor had grabbed her and moaned the same as she, so mayhaps it was possible he was feeling the same thing.

No longer in the mood to try and read, Sansa folded the page she was on and set her book down. She slid her body down and turn over onto her side. Her hand reached under the pillow, and she felt Sandor's tunic. She took it out and inhaled his scent again, before closing her eyes, and letting her body rest.

Blood was everywhere. Dead bodies covered what used to be green grass. Sansa walked among the dead, barefoot. Her dress torn, her face covered in dirt. She looked down at one of the soldiers wearing Stark colors. The man next to him wore red and gold, the colors of House Lannister. Why are we fighting the Lannisters?

She continued on, the stench of dead bodies filling the air. There was no escaping it. Fear boiled in her stomach, and she started running, desperate to find her family. She looked in every direction, but could not find any living person.

"Mother!" She screamed so loud her throat hurt. No answer. "Father!" Tears streamed down her face, and she ran. Faster and faster. The bodies spread out from the castle to the cliffs. She did not see one living soul until she reached the spot where Volantis was pushed. A man was standing there. He was tall, and broad "What happened?" Sansa cried.

The man turned around, half his face covered in burns. "Sandor..." Sansa whispered. He was wearing Lannister colors. He said he wanted to fight on our side. "I don't understand!" She cried.

"They're all dead." He said, no light in his eyes.

"Who's dead?"

"Everyone."

"My mother and father?" She held her breath.

"Dead."

She fell to her knees and sobbed.

"Even you."

"What?" She looked up.

"I couldn't save you."

"What are you talking about? I-I'm alive."

"I couldn't save you." This time he said the words to himself. He turned back to the sea.

"Sandor..." Sansa warned. "Please, I'm alive."

He didn't listen. He didn't turn around. He took a step forward, and walked off the cliff, falling to his death.

"Sandor!" Sansa screamed.

Her eyes shot open, but she didn't see the cloudy sky, or massacre on the cliffs. She saw her vanity, her fireplace, her wardrobe. She was in her room. Oh Gods, she breathed, her hand went to her heart. Sansa hadn't had a nightmare for years. Whatever Molly gave me must have given me those awful dreams.

She turned over, stretching, and realized she could breath perfectly through her nose. A smile grew on Sansa's face. She got out of bed and put on her robe. She took a quick glance in the mirror, and saw that her nose was still a bit red, but her eyes didn't look so swollen anymore. She took out her braid and began brushing her hair.

"M'lady?" Gwendoline knock on the door.

"Come in." Sansa smiled feeling refreashed.

She opened the door, and looked at her in surprise. "You're awake."

"Of course I am, Gwendoline. It's morning." Sansa laughed. Her handmaiden had the oddest sense of humour sometimes.

"You've been asleep for three days m'lady. We were beginning to worry."

Sansa dropped the brush and looked at Gwendoline. "What?" Three days? Gods, I really must have been ill, she thought.

"Yes, m'lady. I suppose your body just needed rest to fight the illness." She smiled. "I shall wake your mother."

Sansa nodded, but then thought of Sandor. He hasn't eaten in three days! "No wait!" Sansa stood.

"What's wrong, m'lady?"

"Gwendoline," Sansa walked closer to her. "I-um, I'm very hungry, would you mind bringing me breakfast first? A lot of it? There's no need to wake my mother yet."

"Of course, m'lady." Gwendoline bowed and hurried out of the chamber.

As soon as the door closed, Sansa rushed to her wardrobe, and chose a simple brown dress, with a golden belt. She changed into fresh small clothes, and finished brushing out her long curls. What if he's starving? Or thinks I didn't want to come back? That his kiss frightened me? Sansa dabbed a bit of lavender oil on the insides of her wrists and behind her ears.

She put her travelers cloak on and nervously paced the room, impatiently waiting for Gwendoline to return. After what seemed like hours, she came back carrying a large tray or eggs, sausage, buttered toast, and oatmeal. It was not much, but it was something.

"What are you doing, m'lady?" Gwendoline looked at her cloak.

"I have to go somewhere but I will be back very soon."

"Your mother was so worried though. She'll want to know you

are well."

For a moment, Sansa gave into the guilt, but surely her mother could wait a little while longer. Sansa put her hand on Gwendoline's shoulder. "I will be back soon. You need not worry." She smiled.

Her calm tone seemed to ease Gwendoline's worried mind, and she nodded. "Yes, m'lady." She bowed and quickly left the room.

Sansa ate the eggs ravenously. They would not make the walk to the cabin. She wrapped the sausage links and toast in parchments and stuffed them in a bag.

There were no obstacles leaving the castle, as it was still very early. Only the servants were awake, but they were so busy with their work, they did not notices the hooded figure in the shadows.

The weather was noticeably warmer now that the storm had passed. The sky was still grey, as it always was in Landale, but rays on sunlight pierced through them and illuminated parts of the vast sea beautifully.

Sansa's hair flew wildly in the wind, and she smiled, breathing in the fresh air cleared her mind and body. As she passed the spot where Volantis was pushed, she did not look at it. The thought of Sandor standing there from her dream haunted her. Landale was a place of the Old Gods, and old ways. There was magic here, and though Sansa was raised to believe in both, in her heart, she favored the Old Gods, and knew that dreams, may they be good, or bad, hold truth in them. Especially ones as vivid as hers. I mustn't let it worry me, she thought. Not until I know more.

Carefully, she climbed down the cliff's side. Doing it so frequently in such a short period of time, Sansa had begun to memorize the steps, and each time she seemed to climb down faster, and easier. As she hopped off the last step, she could not suppress her smile, for now it was just a short walk until she saw him again.

Now that the rain had stopped, she was able to walk peacefully along the beach. What should I say? She asked herself. I shouldn't kiss him again, the first time was one thing, we were lost in the flames, but to kiss him again? No, she told herself. Though she desperately wanted to give into her feelings, she was a highborn lady, and must save her heart for a noble man.

Now in the shadow of the cabin, Sansa could smell the fire still burning. She took a shaky breath and knocked on the creaky wooden door. Her heart raced. His heavy footsteps grew louder and he slowly opened the door. When his grey eyes met her blue ones, he immediately opened it.

"Sansa..." He seemed surprised. His voice did not hold the confidence it usually did.

"I was sick." She blurted out. "That's why I couldn't come." They stood there for a few uncomfortable moments. The feeling of being so close to him again was making her dizzy, "I brought you food." Was the only thing she could think of to say to break to silence.

"Come in." Sandor rasped, stepping aside.

He closed the door behind them, and Sansa set her bag down on the table. Get a hold of yourself. When she turned around, he was standing closer to her.

"I'm sorry." It seemed difficult for him to say, but honest.

She knew of what he spoke. She kept her eyes on his chest. "I didn't run because you frightened me."

"Then why did you run?" His voice was so deep it sent shivers down her spine.

She looked up at him to answer, but no words would come. She was lost in the storms that were his eyes. The fire danced in them like lightning. I couldn't save you, his words from her dream echoed in her mind. "I dreamt about you." She whispered, before quickly turning back to the table. She opened the bag and took out the food wrapped in parchment. She felt him step closer to her. His chest touched her back. She stood still, feeling his strong presence surround her. He bought his face to her neck and smelled her hair. She closed her eyes and had the urge to touch herself like she did in her bed. She turned to him, their lips were so close, she could almost feel them. Her breathing quicken, her breasts heaving out of her dress. He put hus hands on her waist, and she put hers on his arms, wanting to give in. No Sansa, she told herself. You must stop.

"I thought about this moment ever sine you ran out of here like a scared little bird." He said deeply.

"So did I." She heard herself say before she could stop the words from coming out.

He brought his fingers to her chin, lifting her face as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. It started off as gentle, but soon her hands wrapped around his neck. He pressed into her so hard, she ended up sitting on the table, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist. She could feel him against where she touched herself. She broke the kiss and gasped, throwing her head back. Sandor buried his face in her neck and kiss her. Sansa's back arched and she moaned.

"Sandor..." She whispered. "Stop..."

He did as she asked. He stepped away from her, both of their mouths hanging open with lust. Sansa slid off the table and stood, her knees barely keeping her up. She smoothed her hair. "You must be hungry." She breathed.

"I've been eating quite well."

Sansa looked at him quizzically, but before Sandor could explain, someone knocked on the door.


End file.
